Mrs Watson
by The Blue Raven
Summary: An AU that attempts to give Helen and James a happy ending, or at least a happy beginning. Helen is pregnant and unwed in Victorian Britain, and James offers marriage to spare her reputation. Slowly, love blossoms.
1. Chapter 1

**Mrs. Watson**

 **Timeline:** An AU that starts a few days after Helen finds out the truth about John's crimes, but spans about a year and a half in total.

 **Warning:** Helen is pregnant or in labour for the majority of this fic. Nothing unduly graphic is included, but there are passing references to some of the biological unpleasantness and inconvenience associated with pregnancy and childbirth. 

**Chapter 1**

She was in her room, crying again, damn John. She hated crying. She hated him, and not just because of the tears she was shedding on his account. Bloody bastard!

The knock was an unwelcome sound without even knowing who it was trying to intrude on her grief. Even the knowledge that it might be her father gave her a sick feeling inside. She didn't know how she was supposed to face him again after everything that had gone so horribly wrong, so quickly. John, a killer because of her experiment with the Source. Her, pregnant out of wedlock because of her own lack of self-restraint. It was just all so unspeakable and she couldn't stand his pity any more than she could comfortably have stood his condemnation.

"I don't want company!" she shouted to whoever was knocking, earning herself a momentary respite.

Literally momentary.

A few seconds later, James's voice filtered through the closed door. "Helen, please, if I could just take a moment of your time?"

She hesitated at that. James was, after all, her best friend, and he sounded as broken as she felt. And why not, when he had loved John, too? Sighing, she dragged herself out of her bed and went to answer the door, wiping her eyes.

"I'm sorry, James, but I'm in no fit state for visitors."

"I know, and I hate to intrude," he answered, shaking his head and looking to be quite as desolate as she herself was. "I promise, I won't take much of your time. I certainly don't mean to impose."

"No, of course not. You, of all people, hardly could. I just... I'm afraid I can't allow you to stay long, James. I'm not well, obviously."

"No, no, of course you're not. I understand that, so I won't stay long. I just had... something to discuss with you."

"Something to discuss?" she repeated, frowning in surprise. At a time like this?

"Have you seen the others?"

She didn't see how it could bear any relevance to whatever it was he'd come to talk to her about, but she nodded anyway. "Nikola offered to murder John for me, and Nigel just kept hugging me and saying how sorry he was."

"They both love you very much," James answered, looking down. "We all do."

"I know. And I'm grateful to have you all. I really am, James. I know I've isolated myself since the news, but..."

"No. One can hardly blame you," he assured her. "But... well, certain matters call for swift action, don't they?"

She sighed at that, shaking her head. "There's no stopping John, James. He'd kill you for trying."

"I, uh... I didn't mean that matter," he told her, and his eyes darted down to her stomach for just a split-second.

She swallowed hard at that, bile rising in her throat. "I suppose, in your frequent brushes with the underworld, you've met a good abortionist?" she sighed, instinctively clutching her stomach. "But, no, James, I won't give my child up, not in that way or any other."

"Nor should you have to! I'm not suggesting that at all!" he protested quickly. "I had an alternative in mind that will protect you both!"

She looked up sharply, frowning. "There is no alternative, James. If I keep the baby, it will live a life of disgrace. If I give it up, I could never live with myself."

"If you were married, though..."

She scoffed at that, shaking her head. In theory, he was right. But, in reality... "I'm tarnished, James. To put it politely. Who would have me?"

"I would," he answered quietly, staring at the ground. "You could marry me."

She laughed, barely managing to keep down the rising hysteria she felt. Trust James to suggest ruining both their lives, just to preserve her honour and that of a bastard child. He might even go through with it, if it would help her, but she knew him well enough to know that he'd be miserable in a loveless marriage.

"James, that's kind of you, but I couldn't possibly."

He jumped a little, staring up at her with wide eyes for a moment before looking away. "No, of course not. It was merely the thought of a moment. Forget I mentioned it." Clearing his throat, he added, "But perhaps leaving town for a little while wouldn't be amiss."

"You want me to run away, with my tail between my legs, James? How could you, of all people, ask that of me?" she demanded, shaking her head. "I've always faced my problems head on. You really think I should stop now?"

"This is different, Helen. You must see that?" he sighed, reaching for her hands. "This is your whole future, your _child's_ whole future. More than your own good is at stake."

She sighed and let him take her hands in his, feeling defeated. "I can't let this ruin either of our lives. I have to be strong," she declared firmly, shaking herself.

"You're always strong. But you don't have to be strong alone," he promised, squeezing her hands and drawing her closer. "You're surrounded by people who love you, people who want to help you."

She smiled weakly at that, wrapping her arms around him and resting her cheek against his shoulder. "You're a good friend, James."

"And I'll never stop being one," he told her, resting a hand on the back of her head with a soft sigh. "For once in your life, don't be so bloody independent and brave. Let the people who care for you help you," he advised quietly, lightly stroking her hair.

"It helps just knowing I have your support, James. You're my dearest friend and always will be."

He made a soft noise at that, not quite a laugh. "And don't you forget that you'll always be mine. I'd do anything for you."

"I know, James. I'm afraid there's just not anything you can do for me in this instance."

"No," he answered quietly, hugging her more tightly. "I suppose not. But I'll be here for you, all the same. Always."

"Thank you, James."

"Oh, Helen, how I wish..." He trailed off, shaking his head. Patting her back a few more times, he drew away, smiling weakly. "I should go. You must need time alone after everything you've been through."

"I'm sorry, but I think I do," she admitted.

"No, don't be sorry."

"I just have so much to think about."

"I understand. I do." He took her hands in his again, squeezing them with a sad smile. "I'll leave you to it, then. Don't hesitate to contact me if you need anything at all. I'm at your service, always."

"I know you are. Thank you."

Smiling weakly, she watched him go, shaking her head as he closed the door and left her once more in solitude. Her thoughts were painful, but they had to be worked through all the same.

Perhaps James had been right, that marriage would solve everything. But how could she possible marry after she'd come so close to wedding the monster that was the Ripper? Marriage was a gamble, even when you married for love. She had learned that the hard way, and known since watching John slit that poor girl's throat that she could never take the risk again. Even a good man, even the best of men, might have a secret dark side, might change.

Yet how could she consult her own interests when the future of her child was at stake? The stain of illegitimacy was one that a bastard carried for its entire life. Matters might be hushed up, if one became rich or powerful enough, but all it took was discovery to end careers and destroy families. A child born out of wedlock would always have a cloud hanging over its head, one that would scare away friends, lover, and potential employers alike. It would be a constant struggle, and a lonely one. Did she really have the right to doom her own child to such an existence out of mere distaste for matrimony?

But did she really have the right to accept an offer from James, entrap him in a lifelong sham of a marriage? He would be miserable with a partner he didn't love, let alone with one who didn't love him in that way. She cared for him too much to make him suffer in a loveless relationship. He deserved a proper wife. Or, more likely in his case, a long-term male flatmate who shared his interests and tastes and who would eventually become his inseparable companion. Someone who could make him happy. Someone loving. Someone decent. _Not_ a rebel female who had managed to disgrace herself by an illicit fling with James's own lover.

Not that she'd meant it as an illicit fling but, by virtue of the fact that the marriage would now never take place, that was exactly what it might as well have been. They hadn't been able to do the proper thing and wait. It hadn't entirely been John's fault, either. She'd been as eager as he was to explore the forbidden mysteries of love and sex. They'd been quite enthusiastic in their indecencies. It had always felt wonderful, and she'd been looking forward to a lifetime of enjoying more. But it had been a mistake.

A terrible mistake.

A terrible mistake that had doomed both her and an innocent child to a lifetime of misery and ignominy.

She covered her mouth to stifle the noise that rose in her throat, tears hot on her cheeks. She wished James was here. She missed her best friend's comforting embrace, his hands holding her, one pressed firmly against her shoulder and the other gently cupping the back of her head. It wasn't the first time he'd ever hugged her, but he'd never held her quite so long, or in quite such a tender fashion, and she missed it already.

But she would have to get used to being alone. It was the future she'd consigned herself to.

Sniffling, she sat on the edge of the bed, burying her face in her hands and weeping quietly.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

She was picking morosely at her food when her father entered the breakfast-room the nest morning. Forcing herself to sit up straighter, she took a mouthful of food and tried to look like she hadn't been crying within the past ten minutes. Her father, of course, was not fooled. He knew her far too well.

"Still not eating, Helen?" he asked gently, sitting down next to her instead of in his accustomed space on the opposite side of the table.

"It's the baby," she lied, resting a hand on her stomach and pushing the plate away. "I'll eat later, Father."

"Still? I'll give you something for the nausea," he answered quietly, resting his hand on the one she had on her stomach. "Does it move yet?"

Swallowing hard, she shook her head. It was always uncomfortable discussing this topic with him. He hadn't openly condemned her for her mistake out loud, but she could sense his disappointment every time the topic was broached.

"It's early still," he told her. "You'll feel movement before you know it."

She didn't point out that it might be easier for everyone if the baby never did stir in her womb. Besides, he looked like he knew it. It couldn't be easy for him, to have a beloved only child bearing such disgrace. He'd done everything for her, raised her with every advantage, and this was how she repaid him. A small part of her, a part she loathed, thought that the best thing that could happen for him would be for her baby to die early enough that the pregnancy could be hidden. The rest of her reacted violently to the very concept, and her nausea only grew worse at the idea.

"Helen, sweetheart, don't," he directed, reaching up and wiping away the tears she hadn't even realized she'd started to shed. "We will find a way to salvage this situation."

"There's only so much that can be done, Father," she sighed. "I've ruined everything."

"You couldn't have known what would happen, how this would all end. Yes, you've made mistakes, but you can't blame yourself so entirely. And you certainly can't keep lingering on the past. You must accept what is and move forward."

"I know," she whispered, staring down at her hands. "But the future seems so bleak, for both of us. It's not the baby's fault, but it will suffer for my transgressions!"

"Perhaps not," he answered, his strong, gentle fingers wiping away more tears. "Can you think of no solution, child?"

Sniffling hard and rubbing away the last of her tears, she shook her head. "What solution could there possibly be?"

"A maid found this in a rubbish bins this morning, Helen," he answered, withdrawing a ring box from his pocket and placing it on the table. "Is there nothing you want to tell me?"

She choked softly, staring at it with wide eyes. "Where did that come from?" she demanded, not sure whether to feel angry, confused, or horrified. Hell, at the moment, she was not even sure if that conflicted jumble of feelings was directed against James or herself.

"So you don't know where it came from? You haven't seen it before?" he challenged, gently but without compromise. His eyes, on hers, were steady and searching. Clearly, he felt sorry for her but, just as clearly, he meant to have answers.

She was silent for a long moment, struggling to compose herself and formulate an answer. Finally, she managed, speaking slowly and carefully, "James offered me marriage last night. I didn't think he was serious. I certainly didn't know he'd bought a ring."

"Do you love him?"

"He's my best friend, Father, but I'm not sure I'll ever feel for him what I felt for John."

"Look what your feelings for that man have gotten you, girl!" he snapped in answer, shaking his head and slamming the ring-box down on the table.

She gasped softly at his outburst, clasping her hands in front of her mouth and nervously rubbing her face as she struggled to think how to respond. He didn't seem to require a response, though. After some time, he sighed and spoke again.

"Does he love you? As a man is meant to love a wife?"

"I don't know. I... I don't think so," she added since, to the best of her knowledge, the only person James had ever loved romantically hadn't even been a woman.

More silence. "Do you think he could learn to love you? Clearly, he seems to think he could."

"It's James. He'd do anything to protect me. I don't think he's thought it through."

"Well, there's hardly time for rational thought, in a situation like yours. You may end up having to swallow your pride and accept him. You know that, don't you?"

She swallowed hard at that, staring at him with wide eyes. "You once told me-"

"I married for love, Helen," he interrupted, holding up a hand to silence her. "I had hoped you would be able to do the same. It certainly looked like you would, but the situation _has_ changed."

"You blame me."

"I don't _have_ to blame you. You blame yourself." He shook his head. "Helen, this is not about blame or recrimination. It's about salvaging what's left of your life and your reputation. Do you know what the rest of your life will be like if you do not marry, and quickly? Do you realize what your _child's_ life would be like?"

His words hit her like a blow to the gut, momentarily taking her breath away. She didn't answer because she couldn't. Her chest ached horribly, and so did her head. In her eyes, marrying James would be unspeakably selfish.. In her father's eyes, not marrying him would be even more so, because an innocent baby would suffer for it, too.

How could she reconcile the two facts? How could she chose between the future happiness of James Watson and that of her child? Was it even a contest? She couldn't make James happy, she was sure of that. So to marry him would be to make him miserable for life. But to not marry him would be to consign her own baby to an unspeakable fate. James knew it, too. That, after all, was why he had offered, wasn't it? Her own happiness didn't matter one bit. She had to think about the baby now. It was the only thing that mattered, the only good thing that had come out of her relationship with John. It had to be protected, at all costs.

"Do you think... Is it possible to learn to make a man happy?" she whispered finally, voice small and unsteady in her own ears.

She hated how weak and broken she sounded, hoped her father wouldn't notice. From the compassion in his expression, though, he definitely had taken note. He took her hands in both of his, squeezing them gently for a long moment without answering and just looking at her with a heartbreaking, shame-inducing level of sympathy and remorse.

"I think a lot of women marry men they aren't even friendly with, just for a little bit of security. I don't think it's right, but it happens every day. A girl could do worse than to marry her best friend. I've seen love grow up after the marriage takes place. I think that would happen much more easily if a man and woman were already close beforehand. James Watson may be your best chance at happiness, Helen. And he may be your only chance at normalcy and a life free of disgrace," he told her firmly, still holding her hands. "I've always raised you to be an optimist and an idealist. But now is the time for pragmatism."

"I'm afraid I would make him miserable," she whispered, shaking her head.

"Not if you try to make him happy. When have you ever failed at anything you tried, sweetheart?" he countered gently.

She swallowed hard, staring at the closed box on the table. "He may not have me now anyway. I laughed when he suggested it. I thought he wasn't being serious."

He blinked at that, then shook his head shortly. "He is your best chance. He's your child's best chance."

"Wouldn't it be wrong? I'd feel as if I were taking advantage of him."

"You'd have every opportunity to return his kindness."

She closed her eyes, exhaling deeply. "You think I should do it, then."

"I do. You disagree?"

"I... I don't know. Father, I'm so confused!" she whimpered, squirming her hands free of his gentle hold and lifting them to cover her face.

"You must look to the future," he told her gently, gathering her into his arms and cradling her against his chest. "Helen, I'd do anything to protect you, but I can't in this case. Young James can, though. I'll talk to him myself if you're too squeamish."

"No," she protested, not trying to pull free, but shaking her head hard. However conflicted she felt about accepting the offer James had made, she drew the line at being bartered for by third parties. She didn't have much pride left, but she meant to preserve what tattered shreds remained. "I'll speak to him. I make no promises, but I'll speak to him on the matter. If he still wishes to have me..."

He nodded, patting her back gently. "You're making the right decision. I know it's difficult for you, but it's for your own good. And the child's."

"Yes, Father," she whispered, burying her face more firmly in his chest, the way she had when she was a little girl, scared of the monsters in her closest. That, of course, had been before she'd known that there were real monsters, and that the worst of those took human form.

"I always told you that the future was yours for the taking. I'm sorry, but that can no longer be the case. Your options are limited by necessity."

"I know, Father," she answered, nodding weakly.

"Maybe it's my fault. Maybe I gave you too much freedom and independence. If I did, I'm sorry, Helen. But I'm still going to do everything in my power to give you a good life, a good future. James will let you work, he'll let you study. Clearly, he's willing to acknowledge the child as his own. You really couldn't ask for better right now."

"I know, Father," she repeated dutifully, tears wetting his shirt.

"This is for your own good, Helen. You'll thank me later for helping you see reason."

"Yes, Father."

They sat in near-silence for what felt like hours, her father just holding her close and rubbing her back as she quietly cried against his chest. She couldn't help but feel guilty about what her acceptance of the proposal would do to James, how it would change his life.

Last night, she'd dreaded spending the rest of her life alone. Now, she was dreading the thought of forcing herself on another.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

It took so long for James to answer her knocking that she wasn't sure he was even in the flat. She was ready to turn around and go home when he finally opened the door. His slightly alarmed look when he saw her face almost _did_ make her turn around, but she remembered her father's injunction to be strong and she stood her ground instead.

"Helen, I..." James began, clearing his throat and turning red. "I didn't expect to see you so soon. Let alone here. Did you want... I mean... will you come in?"

"Do you mind? I... I was hoping we could talk," she explained, fidgeting nervously.

At her words, he suddenly looked as nervous as she felt. But it didn't stop him from politely ushering her inside and pouring her a glass of wine from the bottle on the table. It could have been a perfectly normal interaction between them, except that the silence was tense instead of comfortable as it usually was. It was good wine, as she would have expected from James, but the first sip turned her stomach and she pushed the glass aside.

"Nauseous?" he asked with a frown, hovering instead of returning to his seat. He'd obviously been at the table reading when she knocked. The book was still laying open next to his half-empty glass of wine. Judging from the level of the bottle, it had not been his first.

"Father says it will pass. He's given me something in the meantime."

"I hope it helps. Let me make you some mint tea instead of that wine. Perhaps some toast, as well."

"Thank you, but you don't need to dote," she assured him with a weak smile. "But, James, we must talk."

He swallowed hard at her words, returning to his seat. "Helen, if this is about the offer I made..."

"A maid found the ring, James. She showed it to Father."

"Oh, dear," he whispered, clearing his throat and staring down at the table. "I... I'm sorry. I had meant to keep the matter between you and I. I should never have thrown away the ring in one of your rubbish bins. The last thing I intended was for your father to find out what I offered. Helen, I can't apologize enough!"

"I know you didn't do it on purpose, James. It was a lapse on your part, but I can't believe it was an intentional one."

"I was... upset when I left you last night. Not thinking clearly. I just wanted to be rid of the damned thing."

She hesitated, swallowing hard. "If I had known you were serious, I would never have laughed. I'm sorry, James. I didn't know."

"You have nothing to be sorry for. The truth is that I had no right to ask you. You're in such a vulnerable position. Trying to force any kind of decision at all would be to take advantage of your grief. You must forgive me."

"Do you regret asking, then?"

He was silent for so long that she thought he might not answer. Then he sighed. "Yes, and no."

She bit her lip at that unexpected piece of honesty. "Does... does the offer remain?"

"It... is not rescinded," he told her finally. "I fear that fact puts you in an uncomfortable position."

"Oh?"

"You've been talking to your father. I can well imagine that he wants to see you quickly and quietly married. Your own desires may not matter much to a member of his generation."

"I... He thinks we should marry without delay. He thinks it's the only way."

"And what do you think?"

"I wouldn't mind the shame, if it were mine alone."

"But, of course, you have other considerations now?"

"How can I condemn my own child to such an existence?"

"The child might be sent away, to live free of the cloud cast by its parentage."

She clutched her stomach at that, staring at him with wide eyes. "You think I should give it to strangers to raise?"

James bit his lip at that, sighing and shaking his head. "Clearly, you feel too strongly for that to be an option. Unfortunately, that doesn't leave you with many other choices. I'm sorry, Helen."

" _You're_ sorry?"

"I know I would not be your first choice. I might as well be holding you at gunpoint with my offer. You don't love me; I know that. It's not fair that you should be forced into deciding between your child's future and your own in this way."

"A lot of things aren't fair, James. How can I marry you, knowing I'll make you miserable?"

He looked up quickly at that, eyes wide. "Is that what you think? Helen..."

"You deserve to marry someone you can have a real relationship with. What can I possibly offer you?"

"I... Your friendship, for one. An intellect to challenge my own. Did I mention your friendship?" he asked gently, leaning across the table and reaching for her hand. "Helen, I'm not deceived by what a marriage with you would and would not offer. My eyes are open, and yours should be as well. It would not be ideal, but it wouldn't have to be horrible, either. I could not promise you much, but I could promise never to make demands upon your person, or to restrict your liberties. You'd have my friendship and my respect, always, and that's far better than many can claim from marriage."

"You're biased. Your parents hated each other."

"I'm not sure I'd go so far as to call it hatred, but it certainly wasn't anything resembling love for one another," he answered, shrugging. "Do you think I'd be a terrible husband because I never saw my parents in accord?"

"No, but I think it means that you're willing to settle for much less than you deserve. James, logic tells me I should accept your offer, but my regard for you tells me that I shouldn't. I would feel as if I were using you. I'm not sure how I could live with myself."

"Easily, I should think. You can't use a man who offers himself freely. I'm asking you for more than a pretty little flirt who thinks she loves me madly could possibly give. I'll never be happy with a wife who's not also an intellectual equal, a true companion. Where else could I find such a woman? Why would I even wish to look further than you?"

"There's more to a good marriage than simple friendship. There's..." She trailed off, clearing her throat. "Well, I'm sure a man your age knows what a true marriage entails."

"Sexual desire fades, yet good marriages endure and remain friendly despite that. Why should it matter so much if there's no desire from the start?" he asked quietly, staring down at their linked hands instead of looking at her as he spoke.

She swallowed hard at that answer, not sure how she felt about the idea of a marriage without physical relations. She supposed she should feel relieved that he wouldn't insist on asserting his rights as a husband. But his words made her feel lonely, too, as she imagined a life without hugs and kisses, caresses and embraces. She supposed she could learn to live without sex, as she always had before meeting John, but a life without _affection_...

Not that it was her own life that mattered any more.

"You'd protect the child? Claim it as your own?"

"Of course. Considering its parents, I already love it as if it were my own anyway."

"You're kinder than I deserve."

"You deserve so much more than this life can now ever give you. The least I can do is ease your way a bit. If you let me marry you, I promise to be a good husband and, more importantly, a good _friend_. You'll never regret it. I'll see to that."

"But will _you_ regret it?"

"I don't see how I could. Do you... do you have the ring?" he asked gently, holding out his hand, palm up.

"James, you don't have to do this," she whispered, placing the box in his hand and closing his fingers around it. "You aren't obligated. You don't owe me this."

"No. I'm not obligated," he agreed, clutching the box for a moment before snapping it open. "I do this of my own free will. Helen Magnus, will you marry me?" he whispered, reaching for her hand.

She swallowed hard, chest painful as she slid her hand into his and whispered, trying not to sound as broken as she felt, "I'll do my best to be a good wife. I hope I can learn to make you happy."

"You won't find me demanding in that regard," he promised tenderly, slipping the simple ring onto her finger. He could have afforded one far fancier, but the simple elegance of the band was more his style. More hers, too. And, somehow, it seemed less of a mockery than a more elaborate one might have. "As long as we remain friends, I'll be content."

She smiled weakly, nodding and staring down at the ring resting where John's had not too long ago. "Father says we should marry at once," she told him quietly, stomach twisting a bit. He seemed so willing, but she still felt terrible about forcing him into this.

"He's correct. I've given the timing some thought. There's no way for the baby to be mistaken for mine if we stay in London. But, if we remove to my family's country estate for a year and a half or a little longer, its actual age will be less apparent by the time we return to London. A few months that would have made all the difference won't even be noticed."

"Clever," she answered, smiling weakly. "But I'll miss London."

"You'll miss London less when you see the library," he assured her, expression encouraging, and full of hope. "So many books, and so little time to peruse them all in. You'll want to take half the collection away with us when we return to London again..."

She bit her lips, not so much at his words as at his hopeful demeanour as he delivered them. He wanted her to be happy, so much so that it must hurt him to know that she would not be.

Fingering the ring on her finger, she tried for casual conversation with, "A country estate in Wales must be quite a step up from a two-room flat in the heart of London?"

"Well, it's what I'm used to, if nothing else. I used to spend every summer holiday there, whether my parents were in the country or not. It's a lovely old place. I think you'll enjoy it," he answered quietly, staring down at her hand where it rested on the table. "Helen, are you at peace with this decision?" he asked abruptly. "I know your father is forcing your hand, but I couldn't live with myself if you were unhappy."

"I've made what peace I can. And I am grateful to you."

"Grateful?" he repeated, biting his lip. Clearing his throat after a moment, he declared, "Yes, I suppose gratitude is better than the reaction I might have were I in your situation."

She frowned a bit at his horribly conflicted expression, stomach twisting uncomfortably. "James?"

"I would be angry, were I you. Furious at being forced to marry against my inclinations. It's a relief that you don't hate me for my offer." Looking down again, he added, "I may not be able to give you the things that you hoped for, but I can at least ensure you and your child a good life. I'll take care of you both, as far as you allow me to. All I seek is your happiness. All I've ever sought was your happiness."

"You're such a good friend, James. You're giving up so much for me. I truly don't know how to thank you."

"It's not your thanks that I seek. I'll be amply rewarded when I see you and your baby, happy and thriving together," he told her with a faint smile. Biting his lip with a hopeful smile, he reached for her hand, covering it with his own.

She had to smile at his words, despite himself. Marriage with James was not ideal, but it might still be for the best. He would be a good father, even to a child that was not his own. He might also prove to be a good husband, even if theirs was not to be a proper marriage. Somehow, that thought was scarier than the idea that she might be neglected and abused for the rest of her life.

Part of her wasn't sure she deserved a happy ending after everything. Her experiment had turned the gentle John Druitt into a killer. Her lack of restraint had led to her pregnancy by the monster he'd become. She'd managed, thus far, not to become a monster herself, but who knew what the future held? Who knew what might happen to James or Nigel? Or to poor Nikola who always teetered on the brink, constantly fighting his hunger for blood? Who knew whether her child would escape the taint which had doomed its father? She might be carrying a monster in her belly even now. All of James's best intentions might prove futile for ensuring a decent future for the baby.

"Don't. Don't cry," he soothed, almost before her tears started again.

He was on his feet with his arms around her in an instant, and she turned in her chair, burying her face in his stomach and sobbing. He didn't ask her again not to cry, just held her close and let her work some of the pain and shame and anger out of her system.

She wept in his arms for what felt like hours. Exhausted in the aftermath, she was only vaguely aware of him half-carrying her into the other room and laying her down in his own bed. A blanket was pulled over her body, and his lips pressed gently against her forehead. She was surrounded by his scent, and aware of his lingering presence despite her closed eyes and his silence. Comforted by the proximity of a friend the way she hadn't been by that of her father earlier, she feel into a deep, dreamless sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

James escorted her home after she woke, and had a long, private talk with her father. She rather resented the exclusion, even if it _was_ traditional.

The wedding, however, was a less-than-traditional affair, with few guests and no fancy new dress for the bride. Not that she'd ever desired all the normal trappings, but it felt a bit incongruous to stand before the vicar in a years-old Sunday dress and take the vows that would change her life forever.

But her friends were there and that made her feel a little better. Nikola promised to thrash James within an inch of his life if he ever made her unhappy. Nigel hugged her and repeated again and again his assurances that it would all work out for the best. Both were, of course, sad to see her leaving town so quickly. They promised to write faithfully and exacted the same promise from her, and assured her that they would visit when they could.

And then it was onto the train with James, her things to be sent after.

It lacked the pomp and festivities that had been planned for her wedding with John, and she was grateful for that fact. James was as subdued as she when they boarded their train, and they rode in silence for most of the journey. When they did talk, it was about nothing of import: the weather, or the scenery outside, or the quality of the railroad food. Certainly not a traditional newly-wed couple on their hopeful way to a blissful new life together.

"We'll be there soon," James told her finally, breaking what had to have been hours of silence.

"Good," she answered, resting her cheek against the cold glass of the window and staring out at the darkness. "The motion of the train is making me feel quite ill."

"Shall I see if the porter can find you some toast? Might help a bit to have something in your stomach?" he offered, moving to sit next to her and squeezing her hand.

"I doubt I could keep it down," she admitted, shaking her head faintly and returning his pressure to her fingers with a light squeeze of her own. "Thank you."

"We'll be at my estate before long. You can have some mint tea and broth when we get there."

"You don't have to dote. In fact, please don't," she sighed. "I'm neither ill nor fragile."

"You are a bit ill," he countered, "if only for the moment. And I don't see it as doting to offer relief to a friend. You've never objected to my solicitude in the past."

"Well, it's a bit different now, isn't it?" she sighed, staring at him. "Can't you see that, James?"

"All I see is Helen Magnus being her usual, stubborn self," he answered with a faint smile, squeezing her hand again. "I will promise not to dote excessive but, in return, you must allow me to show you the same level of care and concern I've always displayed in the past. Have we a deal?"

"I suppose," she answered, smiling because that friendly, winning look of his always made her do so.

If he could still give her that devil-be-damned grin, not too much could have changed between them. And it was, somehow, a relief to find that they would still be friends despite all this.

"Our housekeeper is a big believer in the healing power of plants. Be prepared to be plied with all manner of herbal concoctions in the coming months. Mint tea will just be the start," he 'warned' her, chuckling. "The things she made me drink as a little boy..."

"Certain herbs can be very efficacious," she pointed out, biting her lip. "Your old housekeeper may be on to something, James."

"I wouldn't give Mrs. Baines too many points for wisdom. She also puts out a saucer of milk every night for the fairies."

"Dear Lord!" she laughed, shaking her head. "James, what are you getting me into?"

"She's a sweet old woman. She'll take excellent care of you. Or perhaps you'll consider it intolerable doting?"

"I won't mind it so much from a sweet old woman," she assured him.

"Oh, so it's only me you find it offensive from? Shall I be a proper husband instead, neglecting you at every turn instead, and ignoring you whenever you enter the room?"

"Shut up, you," she ordered, smiling and closing her eyes. "I don't want to be happy today."

"You'll have to be happy again at some point," he noted gently, fingers absently stroking against the back of her hand. "It's not good for the baby for you to be constantly miserable."

"Can you really blame me for being so?" she snapped, opening her eyes and moving to the opposite seat, pulling her hand free of his. "After everything I've been through, all the wrong I've done? You think I don't deserve a bit of misery?"

"Helen, you can't keep blaming yourself for John's crimes!" he protested, shaking his head. "None of us could have foreseen what would happen. You're not to blame."

"I played God, James, and I've been justly punished. It would be wrong of me to try to forget."

"No one is asking you to forget, but you can't always live in the past, either. If you can't live for yourself yet, can you at least live for your child? I had a mother who never could bring herself to smile. Give your child something better than I had?"

"John's mother is in an asylum," she told him abruptly. "Melancholia."

"I know. I've met her a few times. She's a lovely woman. It's a real shame."

"He always talked about how hard it was, seeing her so sad all the time."

"No one wants to see the mother they love so unhappy," James murmured, reaching for her hands again.

She swallowed hard, letting him take them. "Then I'll do my best to be happy. But it won't be easy." 

"No, of course not," he whispered, smiling weakly at her. "But, if there's ever anything I can do to help..."

"Bless you, James," she sighed, reaching up to wipe away the tears that were threatening to spill over.

"I know it won't be easy for you. Just... _please_... know that I'll do all in my power to help you both have a normal life. A life free of that shadow."

"We'll never be free of the shadow of what's happened," she told him simply, shrugging. "But maybe we can still have a good life. I don't know. But I... I hope so, James. For the child's sake more than our own."

"We may well be past having the right to ask anything for ourselves," he admitted quietly, clearing his throat. "But, for the sake of the child, it would be best if we had a reasonably happy existence."

"For the child," she agreed quietly, biting her lip and staring out the window again. "But what will happen if he comes for us?"

James cleared his throat at that, colouring a little before going pale. Then he shook himself and adopted a look of firm resolution that she had never seen on his face before. "If he comes looking for us, I'll deal with him. As necessary." Expression softening, he lifted a hand to gently cup her cheek. "Besides, he may not even have survived your last encounter. As terrible as it is to say, we must hope for that outcome."

Her already-roiling stomach clenched painfully at those words, and she whispered, "I've never shot a man before, James. There's no way I can be sure my aim was true."

"I find myself vacillating between hope that you killed him and hope that you did not. But false hope will get us nowhere. John hasn't been back to London since the incident. Even if he survived, he may never return. He must realize that his life would be in danger if he were to come looking for any member of the Five. That will be a powerful incentive for him to make a new life elsewhere. We will likely never see him again."

She nodded weakly at his words, rubbing her suddenly-aching head. "I just wish I knew whether he was alive or not."

"It's best not to think about it, Helen. Please, for the baby's sake, try not to trouble yourself with things you can't change."

"For the child," she repeated, shaking her head and pinching the bridge of her nose. "Hell, aren't we there yet?" she snapped.

"Helen!" he protested, staring at her use of such language.

"This train car is making me so claustrophobic! I can't stand it, James!"

"We'll arrive in a few minutes. Then we'll have a nice, moonlit drive to the house. You'll be able to breathe again," he promised.

"I haven't been able to breathe properly in weeks," she admitted.

"I'm not surprised. There's been so much weighing on you. But I hope, now... maybe there's one less thing to worry about?"

He was wearing that hopeful look from the other day, when they'd discussed the idea of marriage. She couldn't recall having seen him so optimistic since the killings started, and it was really something of a relief. Sighing softly, she reached for his hand, sliding her fingers through his again. They were alone in the compartment, so there was no one to be scandalized by the display. Not that she would have let that stop her, probably. After all, she was Mrs. Watson now. She could hold hands with him any time she pleased.

And he was right. There was one less thing to worry about now.

Feeling less claustrophobic, she spent the rest of the ride in almost-comfortable silence, lightly holding hands with her new husband. It felt different than holding hands with John had, but she couldn't bring herself to mind that. They would probably never have what she and John had but, as her father had pointed out again and again, that didn't mean they couldn't have a happy marriage, and a happy life together.

It proved to be a beautiful night out when they finally stepped off the train, and someone from the estate had sent them an open coach instead of a covered carriage. He'd been right about what a lovely effect it was, riding through the country air on a moonlit night in an open vehicle. Part of her hoped that they could do it again soon. It was just lovely, and his quiet company somehow made it even better. Somehow, in this moment, she no longer dreaded seeing her new home quite so much...


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

The estate was lovely, built in the old style and probably quite ancient. It promised a great many nooks and crannies for her to explore when she had more time. Mrs. Baines, the old housekeeper, had the night off, so James showed her around some of the main residential portions of the house himself, and promised to give her a more complete tour in the morning. Mrs. Baines would probably insist on giving her a proper tour herself, he warned, with a fond smile which promised that she'd probably quite like the woman once they met.

He'd been right that she would love the library. She resisted the urge to enter and start studying the individual volumes there tonight, tired not only with her own emotions, but by the long train-ride and busy day before it. Tomorrow, she could it properly. Something told her she'd be spending a good portion of the coming months in this place. It was a big, comfortable room stuffed with bookshelves and possessing an enormous fireplace in one corner. A cluster of tables and chairs nestled next to the fireplace, making the cosiest reading nook she'd seen in ages.

"I told you you'd like it," James murmured at her elbow, smiling. "Would you like to see your room now? Or are you hungry?"

"I ate on the train," she reminded him, biting her lip. "And I'm a bit tired, James."

"And here I am dragging you hither, thither, and yon when you'll have plenty of time to look around later. You should have said something, Helen!" he protested, all contrition.

"It's fine, James. I wasn't tired earlier. And I've always wanted to see the place where you grew up..."

"Then you'll need to tour a number of boarding schools. This was only 'home' on the summer holidays."

She bit her lip at that, squeezing his arm and trying to imagine having been sent away like that, year after year. No wonder he'd never really had a close relationship with his parents. Poor man. It didn't seem to upset him dreadfully, but she couldn't imagine how lonely his childhood must have been.

"Take me to my room, James?"

"Of course. This way," he answered, offering his arm.

She accepted it without comment, following him from the library and up the stairs to her bedroom.

"I'm just down the hall, if you need anything and don't want to wake the servants," he told her, gesturing to another door. "Do you need anything before I leave you?"

"Will you come inside for a few minutes?" she asked quietly, unable to meet his eye. "I'm exhausted, but I don't want to be alone just yet."

He blushed, but didn't comment as he followed her inside. "I imagine you'll want help getting out of that dress, too. Should I send for a maid?"

"I'd rather you didn't. I'm not sure I'm ready to face anyone else just yet."

"You can't sleep in that, though," he protested quietly.

"If you could just unbutton and unlace me..." she began, feeling absurdly sheepish to be making the request, considering this man was now her husband, had the legal and moral right to do a lot more than just take her clothes off if he wanted. "I can manage from there."

"Well, of course, Helen. I assumed there would be more to it than that."

"It's the first couple of layers that are the hardest. I can manage my under-things on my own," she assured him, grateful to see the privacy screen set up in one corner. "You don't mind, do you, James?"

"Of course not. I'll be glad to help," he assured her quickly. "I'm surprised you didn't bring your maid with you from London, though..."

"Oh, I already found Greta a new position. I need to be careful of anyone too familiar with my body seeing me for some months yet. If, as you and Father proposed, we really are going to lie about the dates of the pregnancy..."

"Of course. It won't do to have even a loyal maid see your body changing sooner than should be possible. I suppose you're having your loosest dresses sent up for when you must leave the house?"

"I bought some special for the occasion. Ones I can put on and take off myself. I'll appear indecently independent, but I don't care about that, under the circumstances. But will your servants keep quiet?"

"They've been loyal to my family for a long time now. They'll understand if my new wife and I... became enthusiastic a bit early. It won't make much difference if they realize the timing is off. They're all faithful enough not to say a word. My father would never retain them otherwise."

"Is he a strict man?" she asked quietly.

"Very, but that won't matter. You won't have to deal with him often. He usually spends his time in India or other parts of the Empire. As long as you give him a grandchild and don't disgrace us with public affairs, he won't care how you behave in private."

She swallowed hard at his casual mention of affairs, remembering how, before she'd agreed to marry him, he'd promised not to make demands of her, or restrict her liberties. Was _that_ what he had meant? That she could have affairs so long as she kept them quiet? It would, of course, suit his sense of fair play. He would have his affairs and she would have hers. It should have been a relief, but it didn't seem entirely... right. Part of her had assumed that he secretly had his heart set on a normal marriage. It was strange, and oddly a bit upsetting, to think he might not.

"You... think I'll have affairs?"

"John once told me that your... appetite is, uh... healthy. He shouldn't have said so, of course, but I can hardly unhear what he told me." He cleared his throat and shook his head. "The point is, I want you to be happy, Helen."

"So you keep saying," she sighed, turning her back to him. "Unbutton me, will you?"

"Have I made you angry?" he asked quietly, moving to stand behind her and quickly undoing her buttons.

"I don't know. No, of course not," she answered, shaking her head at the contradiction in her own words. "I just... wonder what you want from this marriage, James."

"Not to take anything you're unwilling to give, certainly," he told her, pushing her dress open in the back and fidgeting with her laces.

"I gave my consent when I married you," she pointed out.

"You didn't exactly have a choice. I chose not to see it as an enthusiastic acceptance of... that. It would be nice, Helen. Don't mistake me. It would be... more than nice. But I can't ask it of you, either. It must be your decision and I won't object if you'd rather bed another."

"Oh," she answered quietly, considering his words. "James, do you... do you love me?"

"Of course I do, Helen. I'm surprised you have to ask," he told her quietly, taking a step back. "There, you should be able to finish undressing from here."

She turned to face him, stomach churning a bit. "You love me, but you married me knowing that I might not love you. That we might never have a proper marriage? How could you do that?" she asked quietly.

"How could I _not_? I accepted a long time ago that you and I would never be together. Nothing's changed. I won't take advantage of your desperation to force anything upon you. If you choose me, in that way... it must be your decision."

"But you'd like me to?"

He shrugged, smiling weakly before turning away. "I'm sorry. I know this is not the wedding night you always wanted."

"Don't go, James," she sighed, grasping his shoulder lightly. "I've pictured my wedding night a lot of ways, but it never involved me alone."

"I... are you just asking for company, or..."

She bit her lip at that. "Just company, if you don't mind. I... I'd be grateful."

"Then I'll go change and be right back," he promised, pressing his lips to her cheek.

"Are you sure you don't mind?"

"I don't like sleeping alone, either," James told her. "I also wouldn't mind the company. Just company," he added when she bit her lip. "Get changed. I'll be back in a few minutes."

It was so kind of him that she couldn't help but throw her arms around him and hug him tight for a long moment. He kissed her cheek again as he drew back, again promising to return shortly. She watched him go, finding a nightgown in one of the well-stocked drawers and hanging it over the privacy screen before she stepped behind it to change. Taking off her many layers of course took some time, and she was a little surprised that James hadn't returned by the time she shrugged on her nightgown and finished packing away all her daytime things. She wasn't entirely sure whether she should go to bed and wait, or go looking for him.

Before she had quite made up her mind to check his room, he knocked gently on her door, poking his head in again. "Are you decent?"

"Yes, James. I had plenty of time to get dressed. You've been gone an age."

"Yes, sorry," he apologized, entering with a pair of teacups on a tray. "I thought you might like a cup of mint tea to soothe your stomach before bed."

Her stomach wasn't bothering her nearly as badly as it had been for the past several days, but she still nodded gratefully. It would, if nothing else, help them both sleep. And sleeping was certainly better than lying awake thinking about what a couple properly _should_ be doing on their wedding night.

Smiling, he set the tray down and handed her a cup of tea, scooping up the other and settling down on the window seat, gesturing for her to join him. Shaking herself to try to dispel the suddenly-shy feeling that had overtaken her, she perched next to him, biting her lip.

"It's just tea," he soothed, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "Is this all right?"

"It's fine, James," she assured him, biting her lip and leaning close.

She didn't love him, not as she'd loved John. But, surprisingly, that didn't change how lovely it felt to be in his arms like this. Sighing softly, she closed her eyes, just enjoying the tea and his company.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

They finished the tea in comfortable silence, and James returned the cups to their tray, fussing about with them like a man looking for an excuse not to leave just yet. Or, just perhaps, like a man who did not intend to leave and who was terrified by the implications of that promise.

"Stay the night, James," she requested again.

He nearly dropped the tea tray at those words, but mastered his trepidation quickly, shaking himself and setting the tray down again. "Of course, as I said. If you'd like."

After all, he must always have intended to stay. Certainly he never would have changed into his nightshirt before making them their tea otherwise. Smiling shyly at her, he turned down the bed and waited for her to slide under the covers before drawing the curtains, extinguishing the lamps, and crawling in after her.

"I've always hated sleeping alone," he murmured, adjusting the blankets around them, but keeping what he must have considered a safe distance.

She bit her lip and edged a little closer. "It's all right, James. Of course nothing will happen, but it doesn't mean we can't simply spend the night close to each other. It would be immensely comforting, I should think."

"You could have something there," he admitted, and she could feel him moving closer in the darkness. "You must miss him dreadfully," he added after a moment, voice low and full of more compassion than she probably deserved under the circumstances.

"Just... just to be in his arms one more time..." She drew a shaky breath, shaking her head. This could not be something any man wanted to hear from his new wife. "I shouldn't. I'm so sorry, James."

"No. No, don't be," he answered firmly, his arms closing around her waist and drawing her against his chest.

She closed her eyes and tucked her head under his chin. He was smaller than John, and not so well-muscled, but it was still comforting to be held in his arms like this, snuggled up against his body and cradled close by gentle arms. Sighing softly, she wrapped an arm around his waist, squirming until she was entirely comfortable.

"Is it wrong to miss him?" she asked quietly, half-knowing what his answer would be. If anyone would understand, it would be the man who had loved John as deeply as she had.

"Of course not. You loved each other dearly: deeply and honestly. Whatever he may have become later, that doesn't change who he used to be. We both loved that other man, with good reason. It's not wrong to remember and mourn. We _should_ honour his memory, Helen."

"Thank you, James," she whispered, pressing her nose into the hollow of his throat and inhaling his scent.

He murmured in agreement, lifting a hand to lightly stroke her hair, and she found herself drifting off in mere minutes, after far too many sleepless nights, comforted by the friendly embrace.

0101010

She awoke to light in her face. They'd moved in their sleep, her back now pressed against James's chest, and his arms still tightly around her as he slept with his face buried against her shoulder. It was a cosy pose, and she could have remained there forever, but for the fact that they were not alone in the room. Gasping, she stared up at the elderly lady opening the curtains, struggling to free herself from a grip that only became tighter as she tried to extricate herself from it.

"Now, don't you fuss," the woman told her with a kindly smile. "There's no shame in being caught abed with your own husband, dear heart."

"I... no, of course not," she agreed sheepishly, trying to relax.

"It's early yet, but Master James said that you're often up just after dawn. Rest if you like. There's no hurry after the long couple of days I'm sure you've had. There's tea just here, and breakfast waiting downstairs."

"Oh, thank you," she answered, slowly smiling at the sweet old woman. "You must be the housekeeper. Mrs. Baines?"

"That would be me," she agreed placidly. "And aren't you a lovely thing? No wonder Master James is smitten. I always did say it would take a special kind of lady to capture his heart..."

She felt herself colour at that, clearing her throat and looking away for a moment. "He didn't warn me you were a flatterer."

"I only say what I think, lass. Now, will you have your tea in bed?"

"Oh, yes, I suppose," she answered, squirming free of James's gentle grip and sitting up. "Thank you."

"How do you take it, dearie?"

"Just a tiny bit of sugar, please," she whispered, glancing at James to make sure he was still sleeping soundly.

Mrs. Baines seemed to read her thoughts. "Oh, don't worry about him. He's a hard one to wake up, our James. You could fire off a starter pistol next to his bed and he'd just roll over and sleep on."

She laughed softly at that. "I'll remember that."

Handing her the tea, the smiling old lady told her, "I put out the old family albums in the library. I thought you might be interested to see your new relations."

She smiled curiously at that, sipping her tea. "Are there many photographs, then? James never mentioned any photos of when he was younger and we've been friends for years now."

"Oh, friends first, were you?" she asked, beaming. "Well, those make the best marriages now, don't they?"

Next to her, the object of their discussion slumbered on. He was, she realized with a smile, as hard to wake as Mrs. Baines had suggested. Feeling impossibly fond of him, she rested a hand lightly on his tousled hair, smiling up the housekeeper.

"He wasn't the best-looking young boy, but you mustn't hold that against him," Mrs. Baines added. "I'm sure the children will be just lovely."

She flushed at that, reminding herself firmly that the other woman was speaking in generalities, not specifics. They were married now, so eventually babies would be expected. Clearing her throat, she told her, "It doesn't matter what any babies look like. They'll be loved. That's all that counts."

"Of course it is, dearie," she agreed, smiling benignly. "How many are you planning on having? Or is it too early to say?"

She coloured more deeply at that, swallowing hard and clearing her throat against the lump forming there. "I... I don't... We'll work that out later, I'm sure."

"Well, not everyone plans for these things. My husband and I always said we'd have a round dozen," she laughed.

She smiled at the good-natured statement, biting her lip. "And how many _do_ you have?"

"None. But don't worry, you'll be luckier. It'll be nice to have little ones running around the house again, making trouble. We haven't had that since Master James was tiny."

"I did _not_ make trouble," he mumbled sleepily, opening an eye and 'glaring' up at Mrs. Baines with a look that showed great affection and no ire.

"Remember that summer you ran away for three weeks?" she countered cheerfully.

He fell silent at that, looking away and clearing his throat uncomfortably. "You've put enough ideas into my wife's head for one morning," he announced abruptly, sitting up. "Is breakfast ready?"

"Of course. Waiting downstairs whenever you two are ready," she answered unperturbed, mixing up a cup of tea with cream and enough sugar to make Helen grimace. "Here you are, dear," she said, handing it to James before withdrawing.

"You were a bit harsh with her," Helen protested quietly, staring at James. She'd never imagined him to be the sort to be short with his own domestics.

"She had no cause to bring up the past like that," he answered with a shrug, sipping his tea. "It's dead and buried, and should remain that way."

She frowned at that, watching him thoughtfully over the top of her cup. "Did you really once run away for almost a month?"

He sighed at that, silent and unanswering for several long moments before he nodded slowly. "I did. I was tired of getting thrashed for every minor infraction, so I left. I was twelve."

"Where did you go?" she whispered, staring at him with wide eyes. Gregory had never beat her, not for anything. She knew it was common enough to physically discipline one's children, but she couldn't imagine what James could have done at that age to merit such a harsh punishment, and on a regular basis from the sound of it.

"I built a small hut in the woods. I fished and stole fruit from the orchards." He shrugged. "But the nights started getting colder so I eventually crawled back with my tail between my legs."

"Oh James," she whispered, resting her hand on his arm. "That sounds terrible."

"Father didn't want to take me back. Mother forced him to. This was a few months after she started getting sick."

"She died when you were thirteen," she remembered, biting her lip and squeezing his arm. "Oh, James..."

"I was away at school by then. Father didn't speak to me much after that. Maybe he blamed me for worrying her while she was ill."

Her heart hurt more than a bit at that, and she found herself hating her new father-in-law. "You must have missed her so much."

He smiled weakly at that, swallowing and shaking his head. "At least I got to know my mother. I'm luckier than you in that regard."

She looked down at his words, biting her lip. "Father tells me she was an amazing woman. I would have liked to know her."

"I can imagine," he answered, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and drawing her a bit closer. "I'm sorry you never got to."

"I probably would have missed her more if I _had_ known her. I just... sometimes I envy the girls who had their mothers. Father was wonderful, but I feel like I missed a lot. I... I wish she was here now with some motherly advice."

"It would probably make the pregnancy easier to bear. There's medical advice, then there's family advice. I know which I'd rather have."

She smiled weakly at that, leaning against his shoulder with a sigh. "Oh, James... What will I do?"

"We'll manage this, Helen, together. And that child will be the happiest, most spoiled one imaginable, I promise you."

"And you'll take care of it? Even if something happens to me?"

"Helen! Of course I would, but _nothing_ will happen. I won't allow it."

"You may be Lord and Master in this house, but I don't think you have quite that much control," she chuckled, shaking her head.

"No, perhaps not," he agreed with a faint smile. "But I still won't let anything happen to you, or to the child. You're both safe with me. I need you to know that."

"I do, James. I trust you," she assured him, smiling up at him and resting a hand on her stomach. "You love it, don't you?" she whispered.

"You know I do. How could I not?" he answered, covering her hand with his own. "I love this child already and I'll never stop loving it. You have my word."


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

Breakfast passed comfortably, and conversation mostly consisted of James telling her about the house and estate, and promising to show her around later today. Of course, he wanted to start with the library again, and she wanted to see it in more detail. Something told her she'd be spending a lot of time in that room in the coming months, acquainting herself with books she hadn't had the opportunity to read before as she grew increasingly indisposed and unable to do much other than reading. It was fortunate she already liked books or she might have resented the idea of not being able to do anything else for weeks, or perhaps months.

She ate her fill, not as nauseous as usual, and encouraged by James since she was 'eating for two' now, then washed it down with mint tea, made with a few different varieties of mint and recommended by Mrs. Baines to prevent her from getting ill later. The food was nowhere near as fancy as the house, plain but plentiful, and there was nothing that she didn't indulge in at least a little of. She could hardly remember the last time she'd enjoyed breakfast so much. Food had started to taste horrible in recent weeks but, today, it actually tasted quite good. Perhaps it was because she had less to worry about now, more to look forward to.

James, always a generous eater, was just finishing his own hearty breakfast as she drained her second cup of mint tea.

"Would you like to see the library now, or did you need a few minutes to digest?" he asked her with a smile.

"Me?" she laughed. "You ate half the table! If anyone needs time to stop and digest..."

"I'm used to it," he answered, winking at her. "You've never before had to contend with one of the spreads Mrs. Baines lays out. It can take getting used to."

"I suspect I'll manage. If you can."

He chuckled and climbed to his feet, moving to help her up. She normally would have resented that a bit, but she was so stuffed that she gratefully accepted his help. Smiling at him, she climbed slowly to her feet.

"You have an excellent cook. It was a wonderful breakfast." 

"I'll be sure to pass that along. You're not wearing your corset today," he added, giving her simple dress a thoughtful looking-over.

"It's getting to a point where a corset could be bad for the baby. I won't be wearing one again during the pregnancy," she told him, blushing a little. She hadn't gone without a corset since before puberty and it made her feel almost naked, even if it _was_ a relief to be out of the blasted thing. "I'm sure the servants will talk, but I won't endanger my child."

"Nor should you," he agreed. "And why _should_ you wear a corset? It's not as if we'll be entertaining company or going out much," he pointed out. "And you did say you would be wearing more simple garments for a good while."

"Well, that's true. Most of my dresses shan't really require one," she answered, grabbing a last scone off the table as they exited the breakfast room. "Going to show me the fabled library properly now?"

"Somehow, I knew that would be the first place you asked to see this morning," he chuckled, smiling and shaking his head. Offering his arm, he added cheekily, "This way, milady."

Grinning at that, she accepted his arm and let him lead her through the halls and into a massive library. It looked so different with sunlight streaming in through the high windows, not just a shadowy room full of shelves, but a large, airy library, stuffed with volumes. She couldn't recall having ever seen such a large private collection of books, and she smiled eagerly, squeezing James's arm. A merry fire crackled in a large fireplace set into one wall, and a clustered of tables and chairs around it looked like a perfect, cosy place to go over all those books at will.

"Oh, James, it's wonderful."

"I thought you might like it," he agreed quietly, dropping his arm. "Have a look around."

She smiled at him, she walked to one of the shelf-covered walls and took down a book at random. "Who's Jane Austen?"

"A woman you'll quite like. She's got a gift for sarcasm," he teased.

"I'll have to read her books, then," she answered, carrying the one in her hand over to one of the tables and setting it down next to two leather-bound albums. "Oh, are these the family pictures Mrs. Baines mentioned?"

"Lord, she didn't!" he groaned, shaking his head. "Why on earth would she do that?"

"She said something about my wondering what our eventual children would look like," she answered quietly, biting her lip.

"Lord, preserve us!" he groaned, shaking his head again. "Helen, I'm sorry."

"Oh, don't be. She meant well enough. And I'll have to get used to her before much longer anyway. Besides, why shouldn't you show me pictures of you and my new in-laws?"

He gave another groan, looking pained. "Honestly, Helen, is this really necessary?"

"Not necessary, per se, but I am curious," she admitted. "Come now, James, it can't be as bad as all that."

He hesitated for a long moment, biting his lip. "You'll laugh when you see what I used to look like."

"Oh, don't be silly. I'm sure you were a very dignified young man."

He snorted indelicately at that, but didn't comment. Picking up one of the albums, he laid it on the table before her and flipped through it. "These were my parents, the day they got married."

"Oh, your mother was lovely, James!" she breathed, studying the image of the shyly smiling woman. His father looked as grim as could be, not at all the picture of a happy new groom, and she tried not to imagine the miserable marriage James had previously implied the two had shared. "I can see where you got your good looks from," she said instead. "She was beautiful."

"Yes, yes she was," he agreed, smiling fondly down at the photograph. "I sometimes felt like she was the only person who truly understood me."

"Well, you have me, and Nikola, and Nigel for that now," she pointed out. "We'll never replace her and we wouldn't dream of trying, but you do have us."

"And I'm grateful for you all," he answered with a smile. "I'm looking forward to having the others visiting us. I miss them already."

"It'll be good to have them," she agreed, absently leafing through the album and stopping on a picture of a little boy. "Oh, James, is this you? How darling!"

He blushed in answer, glancing down at the picture of a gangly little boy, all knees and elbows, wearing a grave expression but with undeniable mischief in his young eyes.

"I was such an awkward child..."

"Oh, most of us were. There's no need to feel self-conscious," she assured him, smiling. "After all, you've grown into a fine man."

His pink cheeks darkened further at her words and he stared down at the photograph again. "I remember, I had trouble standing still for long enough to get a good photo. Dressed in those itchy, fancy clothes and having to stand there looking serious."

"You can be serious."

"Yes, but it's hardly my natural state," he answered with a grin.

She laughed at that. "And what mischief were you planning that day?"

"I was building a hut in the woods when that picture was taken. I was full of plans to improve it."

"Is it still standing? I'd like to see it some time."

"It must be a wreck by this time. I haven't set foot there in... oh, ten years now."

"Maybe it's time to go back? It sounds like an important part of your childhood."

"It was my escape. I went there when things were unbearable." He stared down at the photograph, gently touching the page. "It kept the smile in my eyes."

"Then you should revisit it today. Places like that are important and shouldn't be forgotten."

"Maybe, when your child is old enough, I can help it build a little hut of its own?" he offered, expression shy. "I've had the experience, after all."

"I'm sure it would like that very much," she answered, smiling as it occurred to him that he would probably make a truly loving father. She hadn't really thought about it before and, while it was hardly surprising, the realization came as a relief. She'd known he would take care of the child, but the idea that he would truly love it, too...

"I wish we knew whether it was a boy of a girl," he murmured, interrupting her reverie.

"So do I," she agreed, resting a hand on her stomach.

"Some day, there will be a way, I'm sure of it. Wait and see."

"I believe you. You always make such fantastical predictions about the future but somehow I believe them all. You're like our very own Jules Verne."

"An elderly, disillusioned Frenchman?"

"James!" she laughed, swatting him. "Jules is brilliant and you know it."

"Of course he is, and I adore him. But he's rather lost his hope for humanity and it's sad, Helen. Have you read that transcript of his? _Paris In the Twentieth Century_ , it's called. I hope I'm never that disillusioned. Hetzel won't even touch it, it's so grim."

"Well, Hetzel takes his job very seriously. He wouldn't want Jules to compromise his literary reputation. No one wants dark prophecy from a man like Jules. That's not why they read his works."

"No, of course not. It's just sad to see a once-optimistic man lapse into such a mindset. And it's only gotten worse since he was shot."

"Understandably so, I'd say, after being shot by his own nephew," she protested quietly.

"His nephew is ill. He shouldn't let that impact his view of the rest of the human race any more than John should impact ours."

She winced a bit at John's name, the first time he'd brought it up, but did her best to ignore it and plough on with the conversation. "No, I suppose not, although he may have a point about society at large being as ill as some of its members. Look at the world, James..."

"It'll be a better world by the time your child is our age. Our generation knows too much, and cares too much for it to be anything else. The world is changing, Helen. Every day. Good changes as well as bad. And many more good changes than bad. One day, it'll be a world truly worth living in."

She smiled at his reassurances, bending and leafing through the album. His family all looked so serious, and his poor mother just started looking more and more tired and defeated as the pictures went on. Helen couldn't tell if it was her illness or her unhappy marriage, but she had to feel sorry for a woman who, by all accounts, had been one of the few adults to be truly kind to the young James.

"Oh, it's Mrs. Baines, isn't it?" she asked, pointing to a girl in an old photograph of what must have been all the servants in the household at that time.

"That was a few years before she took over her mother's job as head housekeeper. She worked in the kitchen, then, used to sneak me sweeties."

"No wonder you like her now," she chuckled. "You and your sweet-tooth."

"That _is_ my weakest point..."

"I'll remember that if I ever need to bribe or entice you."

"Please do."

She laughed at that answer, smiling up at him for a moment before growing serious. "James, I really can't thank you enough for what you've done for us both."

"Hush, Helen," he answered, blushing. "You're my best friend. I wasn't going to let you go through this alone."

"Well, I'm still grateful," she answered, leaning up and kissing his cheek. "Thank you, James. I don't know where I'd be right now without you."

"Best not to think about it," he answered, smiling warmly down at her. "The past and the possibilities of the present don't matter. All we have to focus on now is the future."

"If I had a drink, I'd propose a toast."

"Well, I propose one anyway. Here's to the future, Helen."

"To the future, James. To the future."


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

In recent months, it had become her morning ritual to climb out of bed and study her new body in the mirror for a few minutes before dressing and getting ready for the day. So much was changing, so fast. Some of those changes were embarrassing and not to be thought about more than necessary, like the stomach and bowel issues. Others, like her thicker, more lustrous hair and shining complexion, were just lovely. Of course, the really fascinating differences were in her belly and breasts. She'd know both would grow, but she'd been unprepared for how _much_ they'd changed in recent months. Her stomach especially had taken on dimensions she'd never expected.

"Good morning," she greeted the baby, resting a hand on the bulge with a smile. "I don't know who or what you'll be, but I promise, you'll be the best-loved baby in the entire Empire. You'll have every advantage James and I can give you."

As if in response, the baby gave a small jump. Gasping, she clutched at her stomach, staring down at it in shock. She had, of course, been aware that it was about time to feel the baby start moving but it had been so unexpected...

Laughing and tying her dressing gown shut, she went to find James, waddling a bit as she always did these days.

He was in the breakfast room, perusing a book as he absently worked his way through his breakfast. He looked up at her entry, face lighting with a smile when he saw her, then a blush immediately creeping across his cheeks as he realized she was still in her night-things. Embarrassed or not, though, he was quickly on his feet and at her side, taking her arms gently and guiding her into a seat.

"Helen, darling, is everything all right?"

She didn't even blush any more when he called her darling, something he'd been doing with increasing frequency in the past few months, especially in private. He'd never pushed for the relationship to be more than it was, despite the endearments. They'd spent several more nights together in bed, but he'd never laid a hand on her in passion, never suggested their marriage be consummated. He was clearly fond of her, but she doubted he had any of the emotions a man was meant to feel for his wife. There were nights when she almost resented that fact, but she suspected that was largely down to the hormones of pregnancy, not her own honest emotions. She remained grateful to James for all of this, and loved her friend dearly.

"Has something happened?" he pressed when she didn't immediately answer, kneeling next to the chair and taking one of her hands gently in both of his.

"I'm fine," she reassured him. "It's nothing. I just... I felt the baby move, James!"

He made a soft noise at that, almost a laugh, reaching for her stomach but drawing his hand back before he made contact. "Oh, I'm sorry."

"No, it's all right. It's not moving now, but you can still touch."

Smiling shyly, he rested his hand gently against her belly, long fingers splayed as if to cover as much distance as possible. "Do you think it will be a boy or a girl?"

"Oh, who can tell?" she answered with a shrug, smiling and shaking her head. "Mrs. Baines says it's sure to be a boy, with my appetite and my looks. She said a girl would be 'stealing my beauty' by now..."

He chuckled at that, shaking his head. "Well, you are carrying low. But do you _want_ a boy?"

"I'm not sure it matters. I just hope it's nothing like its father."

"It won't be, I promise," James assured her, squeezing her hand with the one not on her stomach. "We'll give it everything it needs to grow up sound and stable. Your child will be the one other people point out to their own children as an example."

"Lord, I hope not," she giggled, shaking her head.

"All right, that might be going a bit far. But she'll be a dear, loving creature."

"She?" Helen repeated, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, I have a 50% chance of being right," he answered, shrugging.

"You want a girl, then?"

"Why not? A little girl to pamper and dote on..."

"She'll be spoiled terribly if you have your way."

"Oh, of course. No little lady of mine will ever want for anything."

She didn't point out that the baby wasn't actually his. He knew that already. If he chose to accept it anyway, that was just part of what made her adore him so much. And she _did_ adore him. She'd realized that at some point in recent months. He'd already been her best friend but, now, she felt more for him. He was so kind, so considerate and loving. She couldn't doubt that after seeing how he reacted to her advancing pregnancy.

Sighing softly, she covered the hand on her stomach with one of her own. "Thank you, James. I don't know where we'd be without you."

"You'd have managed fine on your own. You never needed me. This is just making things a bit easier for you."

"And for the child. It's really for its sake that I'm grateful. Just believing it has a real father..."

"I grew up without much involvement from my father, except when he was trying to beat proper manliness into me. At least I knew I had a father, but I always felt more like I only had another schoolmaster. Your little one will have a better time of it. I wouldn't have it any other way."

She smiled down at him, impulsively bending and kissing his cheek. She could feel his skin warming under her lips, and he chuckled and cleared his throat, biting his lip as she drew back.

"What was that for, hmm?" he asked, not quite making eye-contact.

"Just because." Feeling unaccountable shy, she added, "You'll be a wonderful father, James. My child is very lucky to have you."

"Well, thank you, darling. But you mustn't think that this is a simple act of kindness for me. I love this child every bit as much as I love her parents. It will be my pleasure and my honour to care for her. I can't wait to see what your daughter grows into, Helen."

"It might still be a son," she couldn't help but point out.

"One might almost suspect you of having a preference after all," he teased, climbing to his feet and reaching for an empty plate. "Stomach still bothering you?"

"No more than usual. At least I'm not constantly nauseous any more. It's just heartburn and... well, other digestive issues."

"Poor dear. Better just eat a small breakfast, then."

"Oh, but I'm starving," she protested, sighing. "It's so paradoxical, James."

"Well, at least start with some toast and see if it helps with your heartburn," he counselled, reaching for a slice. "Jam? Mrs. Baines just opened another jar of the elderberry..."

"Oh, I love her elderberry jam," she groaned, wetting her lips and nodding eagerly. "Bless you both," she added, watching him add a generous layer to the thick slice of toast. "I could positively _live_ on toasted bread if it always had her jam on it."

"Well, I don't know about living on it, but you know I always start my breakfast that way," he chuckled, passing her a plate with a few slices of the toast and jam before helping himself to one as well.

"Mmm, thank you," she murmured, happily digging in.

"Mrs. Baines says my mother always had an easier time with light foods, eaten in smaller quantities but with more frequency. Shall I have the cook start preparing food for you accordingly?"

"If it's no trouble, that might be better. I'm certainly hungry much more than three times a day as it is..."

"The baby has a good appetite," he observed, smiling.

"It should. It's big enough," she laughed. "I'm going to be huge by the time this is all over."

"Do you mind?" he asked, giving her a curious look.

"I don't know. I suppose no woman really _enjoys_ being so massive."

"I know some go to great lengths to hide their condition, but I always assumed that was out of shame."

"For a lot of woman I've known, it is. I mean, , especially repeated pregnancy, can be seen as rather blatant proof that a woman enjoys sex," she admitted, clearing her throat and staring down at her unfinished piece of toast.

"I've never seen why that should be considered such a horrible thing," he contributed quietly. "Women aren't so different as men like to pretend and, even if they were... Well, if a woman isn't enjoying sex, clearly a man is doing something wrong."

She blushed at his words, biting her lip hard. She was relatively certain it was the first time he'd ever offered his opinion on female sexuality in her hearing. And, like most of his opinions, it quite went against the general consensus. She wouldn't have been surprised by that if it hadn't been for the topic of the discussion. Part of her had gone so far as to assume that James simply didn't have an opinion on woman in that context. The idea that he might made her think.

"You think a woman _should_ , then? Enjoy sexual relations?"

"Why shouldn't she? You know I'm a bit epicurean. Some things simply exist to bring pleasure. It's what they're _for_ , and they can't be inherently bad or they wouldn't be so pleasurable. Dancing, telling jokes, candied pecans, sex..."

She giggled, covering her face with both hands and just laughing at his inclusion of candied nuts in the same list as those others. Only James, with that sweet tooth of his, could possibly class sweets on the same level as sex.

"I'm going to pretend I understand the joke," he told her, patting her shoulder. "It's good to see you laugh, Helen Magnus. It's a sight I've missed."

She bit her lip at that, peering up at him. "Come now, James, I do laugh sometimes."

"Can you even remember the last time? Because it eludes me unless I look back further back than I care to."

"Well, there hasn't exactly been much to laugh about," she admitted, looking down. "It's been a horrible year, James."

"And this next one will be better," he answered firmly, lifting a hand to her cheek. "Oh, there will be so much to rejoice over, Helen, with a baby underfoot, and the two of us forgetting the bad in favour of the good. There's so much happiness ahead of us, if we just let ourselves seize it."

"You speak with such assurance."

"I feel it, in my bones. It's time to leave the past behind and focus on something new. Can you do that for me?"

"I suppose I can. For the baby's sake, I'm going to have to learn how. It's going to have a good life. We're going to give it a good life."

"That's the spirit, Helen." And, as if he did it every day, he leaned forward and pressed his lips lightly to her cheek. "Now why don't you finish your breakfast?"


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

She was laying in the library on a large, overstuffed sofa James had provided for her comfort, curled up under a comforter despite the relatively mild weather outside, and enjoying a rather droll book about a girl named Emma. There honestly wasn't much else to do as the pregnancy drew to an end, but to read and to rest. It was more exhausting than she had anticipated, the drain of supporting and nurturing a nearly full-grown child inside her. She was always tired, and even moving around in the ways she used to was increasingly difficult. Some days, she even needed to lean on James just to get from her room down to the library. The constant walks they had taken together on the grounds in the early days of their marriage were very much a thing of the past.

He was a constant presence now, never quite managing to crowd her, but always within earshot should she call out to him for anything. He loved helping her, seemed to genuinely enjoy fetching and carrying and helping her get around. She half-suspected that he would have helped her to the loo if she'd asked. She was so bulky now that there were actually times when an extra set of hands to help her balance would have been useful.

She giggled as she imagined the picture they'd make if he did help her with that particular chore, setting her book on her knee and taking a moment to compose herself.

"What has you so amused?" James asked with a curious smile, entering the library.

"Oh, nothing. Never mind," she chuckled, shaking her head and resting a hand on her stomach. "The baby must be in a good mood, because I'm feeling quite silly."

"Nothing wrong a bit of silliness," he pointed out, walking over and lightly resting his hand against hers. "You have a visitor."

"A visitor?" she asked, frowning. "Who could possibly want to see me?" she wanted to know, trying to think.

Nigel and Nikola were not scheduled to visit again until after the school year was over, and her father was probably already on his way to India where some rare species was under threat from humans. She'd gotten a long letter about it from him not a week ago. Which was why she gasped as he walked into the library.

"Father!" she exclaimed, struggling to her feet.

"Steady, Helen," James murmured, reaching out to support and balance her. "Sit down."

"But, Father, what are you _doing_ here?" she asked, waddling over and throwing her arms around his neck.

"My ship was delayed for a few days and I could think of no better way to spend the time than with my daughter." He laughed, hugging her close with a happy sigh. "Look at you, sweetheart. You're radiant. Positively glowing. Is this scoundrel treating you well, then?"

"James has been kindness itself," she assured him, grinning as her husband blushed in answer to that. "He's taking better care of me even than you did."

Gregory looked a tad wistful at that, but then he smiled and gently stroked her cheek. "As it should be. Every girl deserves a good husband. And you, young man, had better do right by my little girl," he added with mock-gravity, waggling his finger at James.

"Of course, sir. I care for your daughter very much," James assured him solemnly. "There's nothing I wouldn't do for her, or for our child."

"I'm glad to hear it," her father answered, smiling warmly, grasping James by the hand, and shaking it. "She's not giving you too much trouble, I hope?"

She blushed at that, shaking her head. "Father!"

"Helen isn't in the habit of making trouble for others unless they make trouble for her first," James murmured, moving to her side and helping her to sit again. "We get on just fine," he assured him, covering her with the blanket again. "Why don't I leave you two to your conversation?"

She started to protest, but her father gestured his assent, drawing an arm-chair close to the sofa as James stepped out of the library.

"There, now we can have a nice talk in private," he told her with a smile, sitting down next to her and reaching for her hand. "Tell me how you're feeling. You look well."

"I'm afraid I can't confess to feeling the same," she answered, biting her lip. "I'm tired all the time, and tender and sore in... many delicate locations."

"Ah, yes, some of those disadvantages of pregnancy that can't be mentioned in polite company. Your mother had the same difficulties. But she felt they were worth it. Don't you?"

"I'll be happy when my body is my own again, I won't deny. But I can't complain, either. We're looking forward to the arrival. James has great plans to spoil the child shamelessly. The nursery is already full of toys, and he's already planning which books to stock it with in a few years..."

He smiled warmly at her words. "It sounds like you're happy with him. I knew you could be."

"He's a good man. He's not what I planned for my future, admittedly, but we're comfortable together. He's a kind man, and always has our best interests at heart," she told him quietly, staring down at her stomach.

"You're still troubled that you don't love him?" he ventured.

"It doesn't seem right."

He sighed at that, taking one of her hands gently in both of his. "It's only been a few months. Give it time, girl. Getting to know each other is only the first step. Establishing a comfortable routine is as good a next step as any. I would never have advocated this marriage if I didn't believe that love between the two of you was a strong possibility. You have such a good deal in common, and you'll have even more in common once you're raising a child together."

"I know. I just... don't think I'll feel that... that spark that I used to feel for John," she admitted, sighing.

"There are different kinds of love, child, some deeper and more enduring than others. Don't think that passion is the only solid foundation for a life together. Passion's not stable. Passion fades, or is disappointed and dashed to pieces that way. However it dies, and it always does, it belies its own beginnings. You feel like it will endure forever, but it's _so_ transient."

If he hadn't been her father, she might have argued the point, suggested that passion was a great source of strength and motivation, to say nothing of happiness and pleasure. But how could a woman who had gotten pregnant out of wedlock argue the merits of passion to her own father?

"You disagree," he noted, despite her silence, "but you won't forever. I've lived longer, seen more. I see what you miss, Helen. Just give him a chance and you'll see for yourself."

"You didn't come all this way to tell me to give my own husband a chance," she whispered, biting her lip. "James and I are bound together for life now. You needn't worry that I'll do anything to hurt or betray him, or to damage the marriage. You know this, Father."

"I do. But a quiet life isn't all I want for you. I'd like to see you have a happy one, too."

"As happy as it can be," she promised with a smile, resting her free hand on her stomach. "I'm luckier than I could have been, by far. I don't know exactly what the future holds, but I promise you, I have no reason to believe it will be particularly unhappy."

"That's not the same as saying you're optimistic," he noted gently.

"Father, you can trust me to make the best of things," she promised, smiling up at him. "I'll be far happier than most women are in their marriages. I have a comfortable home, a good husband, a child on the way. I'm actually quite blessed."

"I'm glad you think so. I was starting to worry that your academic interests would keep you from wanting a family, and that really is something everyone should have a chance to experience. You never had a mother, so you've never really experienced having a true family. Now you'll be able to."

"I've never considered myself lacking in family, Father. I had you, and now I have James, Nigel, and Nikola. I've never _needed_ more. Having a child will be delightful, but you and my friends always gave me enough. Please, don't ever feel like I grew up lacking anything important. As long as I had you, I had all the family I needed. I know you always loved me, Father, just as I always loved you, and always shall."

"Bless you, sweetheart," he murmured, squeezing her hand.

"We think the air of London may not be best for the baby, so we'll probably remain here for a few years. Will you come and visit?"

"As often as I can," he assured her, smiling and nodding.

"When you're not working, of course. I wish I could share your work."

"Some day, Helen. Motherhood won't keep you busy forever," he promised. "You and James will both take your rightful place alongside me with time. My work could use two minds like yours. Maybe, some day, your sons will work alongside us, too."

"Just any sons?" she countered, raising an eyebrow.

He chuckled at the look on her face, smiling and shaking his head. "And any daughters who are so-inclined, of course."

"Good. I'd have been disappointed to think that you didn't want your own granddaughter to aid in our work."

He looked bemused at that, then smiled again. "So you and James have settled on it being a girl?"

"He thinks it must be. I say there's no way to be sure."

"And you're right, of course. It doesn't do to get your hopes up one way or the other."

"Did you have your hopes raised before I was born?" she asked, biting her lip. "A son to follow in your footsteps?"

"My daughter will follow in my footsteps just fine. After this slight detour."

"Yes, but did you wish..."

"It doesn't matter what I wished, sweetheart. I had _you_. You exceeded all expectations, by far. What more could I have wished for than a girl as brilliant and compassionate as you? I have a wish now, though. Boy or girl, I wish for a child even half so extraordinary as its mother."

She blushed at that, unable to meet his eye. "Thank you, Father. I'll do my best to raise it into the kind of grandchild you can be proud of."

"I've no doubt we'll both be proud," he assured her. "Just you wait and see."

"I believe you, Father," she whispered, nodding and smiling. "I really do believe you."


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

While it lasted, her father's visit, though only two days, seemed to stretch out wonderfully as they spent every spare hour discussing hopes and plans, dreams and fears. Her father both amused and frightened her with tales of her own infancy: childhood maladies and sleepless nights and endless mischief gotten into. She told herself firmly that she would be different, not panic at every fever and tummy-ache. But she knew better. Like every new parent, she would panic each and every time something seemed wrong with the baby. She would be terrified, probably for the child's entire life. But her father's stories assured her that there would be wonder and joy and excitement, too. Every anxiety would be worth it as she watched the tiny life she had created grow into an independent, amazing adult.

But time was a funny thing. While it seemed to last forever while it was happening, looking back made it feel as if no time had passed at all. She wished the visit could have lasted longer, and missed him even before his carriage was out of sight. The first few days without him dragged out horribly but, after that, time seemed to speed up. The final months of her pregnancy flew by in a flash, one day blurring seamlessly into the next, and into the one before.

James and Mrs. Baines saw to all her needs, even the ones she didn't realize she had. And it wasn't just simple things like her dietary needs, or warmer fires, or cooler baths. She was shocked one day, near her time, when Mrs. Baines came to her in her room one night as she was getting ready for bed and asked a question she hadn't even stopped to consider an answer to.

"Do you prefer a regular physician, or a lady midwife, dearie? There's a nice old woman in the village but, if you want a proper physician, we'll probably have to send to one of the cities for him, and he should come up soon."

"I, uh..." She set her hairbrush down, clearing her throat. "I hadn't thought about it."

"Well, you'd best think on it quickly, then. That little one won't wait much longer, will he?"

She bit her lip at that, swallowing hard. "I... I suppose you're right. I... what would you do?"

"Oh, I don't think I could bear having a man other than my husband looking at me in such an intimate fashion. An older, married woman makes so much more sense. I know you were training to be a doctor yourself, so I hope you'll forgive me, but I don't think many of those know what they're doing when it comes to women."

"No," she agreed quietly. "No, I don't think most male doctors do. Maybe a midwife would be better. I should probably discuss it with James," she added, wishing her father were there to ask instead.

"Well, you just let me know when you decide. I'll make all the arrangements. You won't have to worry about a thing."

"Soon, all I'll be doing is worrying," she pointed out. "I might as well get used to it."

"It's bad for the baby, dearie. You just save the worrying for after he's born, all right? Until then, you let me and Master James handle all that for you. We're here to help you, Helen."

It was the first time Mrs. Baines had called her Helen like that, and she stared up at her with wide eyes, touched. "Thank you, Mrs. Baines. I appreciate it. I really do. I... I'll let you know my answer tomorrow."

"You do that. And do try not to worry," she added, smiling reassuringly and squeezing Helen's shoulder. "Sweet dreams. I'll see you tomorrow with your morning tea."

"Thank you, Mrs. Baines," she murmured, picking up her hairbrush again as the older woman left the bedroom. Her hair was so thick now that it took longer to brush, and she was just finishing up when someone else knocked on her door. "Come in," she called, smiling as her husband entered. "James, what brings you by at this hour?"

"We didn't see each other much today. I just wanted to say good night," he answered, smiling and bending to kiss her cheek.

It was true, too, that they hadn't seen each other past breakfast. He'd been attending to estate business most of the day, and therefore too busy to visit her in the library, or even attend supper. She'd missed him in his absence, blamed the hormones, but, the truth was, a day with his smile in it was just a brighter day than a day lacking it.

"I missed you today," she told him.

"I missed you," he answered quietly, smiling almost shyly at her. "How are you feeling?"

"Oh, tired, as always," she chuckled, shaking her head and resting a hand on her stomach. "It'll be time soon."

"It will. Are you ready?"

"As ready as I think a first-time mother _can_ be. It's very scary, James, but I'll manage, of course."

"Is there anything I can do to help?" he offered gently, extending her his hand.

"Stay the night?" she requested quietly, biting her lip.

He looked startled, and a little rattled. Then he smiled, and answered, "Now, there's an offer I haven't had in months. I think I'd like that, Helen. If you would."

"I could use the company," she admitted.

"And I certainly never mind your company, either," he told her, turning down the bed and then moving to her side to offer her a hand up. "In fact, I've rather missed this."

She swallowed hard at that, accepting his help up and to the bed, then gratefully crawling under the covers and letting him tuck her in. "Thank you, James."

"It's my pleasure," he assured her, moving to the other side of the bed and sliding in next to her.

She lay there in silence for a moment, staring at the ceiling and wondering if she should ask him more about his feelings regarding the nights they had spent together. Instead, she found herself broaching another, more pressing, topic.

"Mrs. Baines asked today whether she should hire a doctor or a midwife for me."

He made a startled noise at that, then cleared his throat. "Oh? And what did you tell her to do?"

"I, uh... I wasn't sure. I told her I'd let her know tomorrow."

"You weren't sure? But you must have a preference?"

"I... I don't know."

"It must be a hard decision. I'm sure it would be easier if your father were in the country. You once said he delivered you himself, didn't you?"

"He did. He told me my mother wouldn't have it any other way."

"India isn't _so_ far away. Perhaps, if we send for him, he might be back in time?"

She sighed and shook her head. "He's doing important work. It would be selfish of me to interrupt it."

"His work is very important, but so is your comfort. I just want what will make you happy. I... hadn't even considered the question of who would deliver the child," he admitted, sounding a bit guilty over the fact.

"It isn't like you not to consider all the alternatives," she noted quietly. "Is something wrong?"

"No, nothing is wrong. I simply didn't think that far ahead. I suppose... well, part of me assumed I might do the business myself, in keeping with all the secrecy we've used so far."

She felt her breath catch at that, and wasn't sure how to feel. " _You_ want to deliver the baby?"

"And why not? It's to be mine. And I am medically trained."

She considered his words, biting her lip again and slowly reaching for his hand. "You've never even seen me naked before..."

"A patient's body is a patient's body. I think my mind is capable of separating the body of my friend Helen from the body of my patient Mrs. Watson. But, of course, I understand if the idea makes you uncomfortable."

"No," she answered quickly, surprised to find herself meaning it. "It doesn't make me uncomfortable at all. I don't know why, but... I think you might just be the perfect choice. Mrs. Baines said she couldn't imagine being... handled in such an intimate fashion by any man but her husband. She may just have been right."

"But I'm not your husband. Not in the sense she no doubt meant to imply," he pointed out, gently squeezing her fingers. "I wouldn't wish to... impose on our friendship."

"An imposition, James? Do you really think it _could_ be? Someone needs to bring my child into this world. I'd rather it not be a stranger. Why not my best friend?"

"Well, when you put it like that... If you truly wanted..."

"Is it what you want, James? I can't ask you to do it if you aren't comfortable with the concept."

"No. It would by my honour, Helen. But only if you truly want it. Because I think, no matter how detached one attempts to be, it is the kind of thing that changes a relationship."

"I'm not afraid of that. You're my best friend. You always will be. Nothing could change that."

"That makes me very happy," he answered quietly, squeezing her hand again. "You should know that I've been reading up. I won't be going into this blind."

"Somehow, I expected nothing less from a man with your foresight," she told him, smiling. "I know the baby and I will be fine under your care."

"I'll certainly do my best for you both. But Mrs. Baines will be shocked," he chuckled. "She thinks only a trained midwife has any business delivering babies."

"Women spent thousands of years delivering without much help to speak of at all. I could probably manage delivery alone if I had to."

"Knowing you, I'm sure you could," he agreed with a laugh. "But I'd better stay close just in case..."

"No, it will be fine. I'll just go off into the woods and handle it alone like a cavewoman. After all, how difficult can it be? I'm sure I'm capable of doing this without any help at all."

"You do that," he laughed merrily. "And I'll sit at home drinking brandy, smoking cigars, and congratulating myself, just as men have been doing for time immemorial."

"Typical man," she giggled, swatting him. "Leaving me to do all the hard work on my own."


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

Getting comfortable was almost impossible today. She couldn't find a position that didn't just make her cramping and back pain worse, and the baby wouldn't stop shifting around inside her womb.

Despite her bravado during conversations on the subject of how easy the delivery was, the first real contraction changed her mind. She's been cramping all morning, but not like this. Everything shifted from discomfort and pressure to actual, active pain. It was intense, almost crushing, and it took her breath away. Jokes about creeping off into the woods and handling things herself, about men having the easy part of the job while women did all the work, had no place in the new reality created by this unique and terrible pain. It was as if the world had decided, all at once, that it was time to teach her a lesson about how harsh life's realities could truly be. No wonder some people considered the pain of childbirth to be a punishment for sin.

For moments that felt like hours, all she could do was sit in the library, panting and whimpering and wishing the terrible pain would go away. And then it did, like a candle's flame being extinguished by someone's breath. She was still a bit achy certainly, but the pain almost felt like a figment of her imagination now that it was past. It couldn't have been as terrible as she'd been convinced it was at the time. No pain could be that bad. The human body simply wasn't designed to bear such things.

But, whatever the reality of the pain, she found herself driven by a powerful instinct. Maybe women in the past _had_ gone off alone to deliver, but her gut was telling her to do something else. She didn't want to be alone with her pain, or her fear. All she wanted was strong arms to hold her and a soothing voice to coax her back into a sense of calm.

Forcing herself to breathe and not allow panic to creep in, she wobbled to her feet, swallowing hard and going to find James. He was in his study and jumped to his feet at her unsteady entrance.

"Helen, why didn't you call me?" he demanded, hurrying to her side.

She swallowed hard, shaking her head. It simply hadn't occurred to her to do something so simple, something she'd been doing every time she wanted him for months now. She was shaken, already not thinking clearly. She tried not to think about how much more unreliable her mind would soon become.

"I think it may have started," she whispered instead, reaching for his arm. "Oh, it hurt, James."

"Are you in pain now?" he asked gently, taking her hand in his.

She shook her head again, making a negative noise. "Just a bit achy. But, while it was actually happening..."

He nodded in understanding, expression sympathetic, and slid his arm under hers and around her back. "Lean on me. We're going to get you to your room. It could be awhile before the next contraction, but you'll want to rest as much as possible before the labour grows too severe. I'll have Mrs. Baines make us some tea while we wait. Would you like a book?"

He spoke quickly as he half-carried her from his study to her bedroom, not sounding panicked, per se, but definitely tense. She opened her mouth to calm him but let out a startled cry instead as another jolt of pain and pressure tore through her.

"Lord!" she protested, clinging to him and closing her eyes tightly against the unexpected pain.

"Steady on," he urged, supporting her against his chest as it took her. "I have you. I won't let anything happen to either of you," he soothed, petting her hair. "I know it's difficult, but you must be as calm as possible."

The pain passed as abruptly as it started, but she continued to cling to him, struggling to breathe again. "Oh, it's going to be a long day," she managed with a weak laugh, wiping the tears from her eyes and forcing herself to smile up at him.

"You're a strong, brave woman. You'll manage," he promised. "Do you think you can walk a little further? We're almost to your room..."

Nodding weakly, she wrapped her arms around him again and leaned close, walking towards her bedroom on shaking legs and grateful for his support. She was already exhausted, which was ridiculous considering that it was only just beginning. She couldn't imagine how she would feel at the end of it all. It was going to be a tremendous effort, especially near the end and she already felt too exhausted to even remain standing.

She was so preoccupied with how she was going to manage that she didn't even blush as James stripped off her dress, and every last one of her underthings, and helped her into a simple ankle-length nightgown.

"You'd best use the chamber pot before you lay down," he pointed out apologetically, clearing his throat. "You may not feel up to it again any time soon. Should I step outside?"

She hesitated, then nodded. "Please. I... Will you leave the door open? In case I fall, or there's another contraction?"

"Of course." Squeezing her shoulder, he stepped into the hallway, leaving the door cracked.

It was a bit embarrassing, using the chamber pot within earshot of him like this, but she knew that it was better to deal with those needs now, while she still could and, more importantly, while she still had the control to regulate when and how such things occurred. She's read horrible things about labour. In a few hours, it might not even be possible to regulate her own body. Sighing at that thought, she tucked the used pot out of sight and crawled into bed, quietly calling his name to let him know that it was safe to return.

"Mrs. Baines will bring tea soon," he told her gently as he entered the room again, moving to her side and positioning the blankets gently around her body. "I fear we'll be waiting some time before things really get underway. You should get as much sleep as you can."

"I can't imagine sleeping at a time like this," she admitted, leaning back against the pillows and staring anxiously up at him.

"Are you in so much pain?"

"Not at the moment, but... well, I'm nervous, James. You can't imagine how frightening this is."

"No, I suppose I can't," he answered quietly, gently taking her hand in his own and sitting on the edge of the bed. "You're young and healthy and I can't imagine anything going wrong, but I'm a bit scared myself. It's not too late for me to send for the midwife."

"No, I want it to be you," she told him firmly. "It should be you."

"Then we'll just be frightened together. I suppose that's always the way these things go."

"Actually, I suspect that you're a more solicitous husband than most," she countered, smiling up at him. "Most wouldn't even be in the room right now, and look what you're about to do for me."

"Only what any friend would. I'm happy to help," he assured her. "I love you, Helen. I want to be here for you."

She smiled weakly at that, squeezing his hand. She was lucky to have him, she knew. Most men, even actual husbands and fathers, would have been too squeamish to bear what was about to happen. But James faced up to it boldly and without seeming trepidation. She was grateful for that. She was frightened enough for both of them. With his help, maybe she could be a bit braver.

He sat and held her hand as they waited for the next contraction, distracting her with stories of his childhood. He'd been a friendless child, and not well-loved even by his own family, but he described a happy time, all the same. She's already known that the grounds and woods were favoured haunts of his but, now, he described a detailed fantasy world, peopled by knights and princesses and monsters that were seldom so monstrous as they seemed. Beauty and goodness did not always equate in that fantasy world of his, and the dragons and trolls were as often the ones who needed saving as the inverse. Even at a young age, then, he'd been the sort of person who would be perfect for the work her father did. Some day, maybe they could carry on her father's work together, with the child they would raise on similar tales.

She sipped her tea and relaxed back against her pillows, smiling up at him as he recounted how those childhood 'adventures' had inspired him to study fencing and pugilism once he was sent away to school. She'd never actually seen him fight, but John and Nigel both had assured her that he was a wily and dangerous combatant when he wanted to be, even if he much preferred to reason and negotiate his way out of conflicts.

"Will you teach me to fight some day?" she asked, resting a hand on her stomach as the baby stirred restlessly within.

"Another contraction?" he asked anxiously, setting his tea down on the night-stand next to her cup and leaning over her.

"No, no more contractions. The baby's just being very active."

"She wants out," he answered, resting his hand lightly next to hers and giving a delighted laugh as the baby gave a hard kick. "Oh, she's going to be a little trouble-maker, Helen. We'll have our hands full with her."

"You still can't be sure it's going to be a girl," she chuckled, shaking her head.

"And you can't be sure it won't be," he countered with a wide smile. "At any rate, the disagreement will be settled decisively in a few hours. You may yet be able to tell me that you told me so. I won't grudge you if you do."

"I know you won't. You've always been a strange fusion of prideful and humble."

"Two sides of the same coin. I have every right to be proud of my own intellect, but that doesn't mean I shouldn't be humble about my faults as well. If I weren't proud, I'd be guilty of false modesty. If I weren't humble, I'd be an insufferable bore. No, it's best to strike a balance between the two."

"A lot of men never manage."

"I have always strived to be as unlike 'normal' men as I can comfortably and decently manage." He shrugged, pulling out his pocket-watch and studying the face for a moment. "It's been ages since you've felt any pain. Perhaps it was a false alarm?"

"I suppose it could have been, but I've never felt the baby this active before. _Something_ must be going on."

"How do you feel?" he asked gently, fingertips stroking absently against her stomach.

"Strange. Restless and... _excited_ , and nervous and irritable... I don't know, James. I hardly know how to describe it all."

"I imagine there's too much going on in your mind and body to be properly expressed by all that the English language has to offer. This is the single most profound thing a human being can experience."

"I suppose it is. I..." She sighed softly. "I keep thinking about John."

"Missing him?" he asked gently, lifting her hand to his face and pressing his lips lightly to her fingers.

"Half missing him. Half terrified that he might show up again."

"You mustn't worry about that possibility. If he comes back, I'll protect you. And, after how you parted, I can't see him returning any time soon. He doesn't know about the baby. He has no _reason_ to come back."

"I keep telling myself that," she whispered. "But I still worry terribly."

"I won't insult you by telling you not to worry. I can only tell you that I think it's highly unlikely that he'll be bothering us again in the near future. And, if he ever does come back, you won't be alone."

"Thank you, James," she answered, smiling weakly and touching his cheek. "You're a good friend."

"I certainly try to be," he murmured with a little shrug. "Now, why don't you try to rest some more?"

Sighing with resignation, she leaned back against the pillows again and closed her eyes, resting while she still could.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

When it became apparent that the baby, restless or not, was in no hurry, James made her walk. Or rather, he proposed walking, on pragmatic grounds, and she gratefully agreed to the excuse to leave her bed again. Laying on her back waiting was getting her nowhere, and grating terribly on her nerves besides. But, almost as soon as she climbed to her feet, she felt something change. It wasn't pain, exactly, certainly nothing like the earlier contractions, but there was no ignoring the tremendous, almost oppressive sense of downward _pressure_ she was suddenly feeling.

Part of her worried, irrationally, that the baby might just fall out and crack its skull on the floor, and she had to tell herself firmly that this simply was not how childbirth worked. As much as the baby apparently wanted out, that wasn't going to happen without time, or considerable effort on her part. And, as much as it felt otherwise, she was nowhere near being ready to expel the child from her body. Walking would help speed things along, or so generations of old wives and folk healers would have it.

So she leaned on James, gingerly putting one foot ahead of the other, time and again. From the bedroom to a sitting room, where they stood for some time watching snow falling outside. From the sitting room to the library, where she selected a few volumes for James to read to her during the labour. Back to the sitting room, where she had to rest for several minutes in the aftermath of another, more powerful contraction. Then, slowly, back up to the bedroom where she gratefully crawled back into bed, feeling a bit spent despite the relatively minor nature of her exertions.

"There, now, how do you feel?" he asked, settling the blankets around her and pouring fresh tea. "Do you need anything?"

"I'm fine for now."

"Do you feel any different?" he pressed gently, sitting on the edge of the bed again.

"Yes," she conceded, nodding. "I can't explain quite _how_ , but something has changed. The baby's still again, and I feel... rather like I feel before the thunderstorm. That sense of anticipation before the storm breaks. It's... a pleasant anxiety."

"Pleasant?" he repeated, raising a brow. "You can't be looking forward to what's coming?"

"No, not really." She bit her lip, shaking her head and explaining, "But I find myself looking forward to what comes after."

He smiled slowly at that, nodding. "I know. I'm looking forward to it, too. Growing up, I always assumed I'd never have a family, let alone one I could really care for. I'm glad I was wrong."

"So am I, James," she answered, taking his hand. "We may not be traditional, but I honestly believe we have a very good chance at being happy."

His expression took on an aspect she'd never seen from him before at her words, softening and somehow seeming to turn equal parts shyly avoidant and openly adoring. Biting his lip, he hesitantly lifted his hand to rest against her stomach, remaining silent for a long moment before speaking.

"You already know I'll do everything in my power to make you both happy. Anything I can. Just tell me what you need and it'll be yours."

"I know, James. You don't have to convince or reassure me."

"If I were in your position, I'd need all the reassurance I could get," he chuckled, lightly caressing her stomach.

"If you were in my position, it would be a medical miracle, James Watson."

He snorted gently at that, shaking his head. "You know what I mean, woman."

She smiled up at him, shaking her head. "How long since my last contraction?"

"A good five minutes," he declared after consulting his pocket-watch. "How do you feel?"

"Like I need to use the chamber pot again," she admitted, biting her lip.

He hesitated, turning a little pink. "You're welcome to, of course, and I'll help if you need. But the odds are that you could... make a mess in the bed anyway, once labour picks up."

"Oh, James, don't," she groaned, shaking her head. "I'd die!"

"You'd be humiliated and it would pass quickly," he countered firmly. "I've read up on this, Helen. I know what to expect, and you won't shock me. Childbirth is an unpleasant, messy business in all cases, and you'll be no special exception. I'm afraid it's a bit late to quibble about that now."

"I hate you," she grumbled, not meaning it, but too irritable to stop herself. Hugging her low belly, she shot him a dirty look. "I need to use the chamber pot."

"Do you need assistance?" he asked, ignoring her cross behaviour.

"James, don't be shocking," she protested, shaking her head.

"Considering what's about to pass between us, that's hardly a shocking consideration."

"I hate you," she repeated, cheeks flaming and humiliation forming a sick knot in her gut.

"You're welcome to try without help, but you know how clumsy you've been lately," he pointed out reasonably. "I'd rather not clean up a spilled pot if I can help it."

"Then make Mrs. Baines do it. I don't want your help until I need it, James!" she sighed, shaking her head hard.

He looked a bit bemused, but nodded and climbed to his feet. "I'll wait outside."

"Thank you," she answered primly, wobbling to her feet.

It was bad enough that he would be poking and prodding her most intimate regions at such a vulnerable moment. It seemed almost unthinkable that he should have to be involved in base, filthy bodily functions of the other sort. It was difficult to use the pot with a low, bulging stomach, clumsy limbs, and enough pain that her body didn't want to move itself into the usual position, but she managed it after a few minutes of fussing and improvising. It took longer than it would have normally, and cleaning herself up was a nightmare, but she managed in the end, and was grateful to climb back into bed, even if she still couldn't find a comfortable position.

"James, you can come back," she called after a few moments.

He returned, looking worried. "Did you manage all right, then?"

"Please, James. I don't want to talk about those sorts of things."

"No, of course not. I merely wanted to be sure everything was as it should be. I was starting to worry when you took so long to call me back inside. Did you have another contraction?"

"I don't think so, but there's much more pressure than there was earlier."

He nodded at that. "I should examine you soon," he told her, tone and expression apologetic. "Do you want to wait until after you have your next contraction, or get it over with now?"

She swallowed hard, biting her lip and squirming nervously. Of course, she'd known that James would have to look at, and even touch, her intimate parts, but the reality of that was only just hitting her now. "I suppose you can... it's only a medical examination, after all. There's nothing indecent in it."

"No, of course not," he agreed quickly, shaking his head.

"Besides, it's nothing you haven't seen before," she added to nerve herself up, forcing a laugh.

He gave a laugh of his own, a nervous twitter. "I wouldn't go that far."

Biting her lip, she shook her head. "Come now, James. Perhaps it hasn't been in this context, but I'm sure you've seen at least one or two naked women before."

"Pictures in medical texts, of course, but I suppose that's close enough," he answered with a nervous laugh.

Her blush was back, and she stared at him with wide eyes. "Haven't you ever been with a woman, James?"

"Helen, is this really the time?" he protested quietly.

"I merely assumed... you're so handsome, and pleasant to be around..."

"I've been... waiting. It _does_ happen." He shrugged, clearing his throat. "Call me a bit of a snob, but I can't love just anyone. And I would never take a woman to bed if I didn't love her."

"No, no, I suppose you wouldn't," she admitted, studying his red face and nervous eyes closely. "It's not too late to call the midwife," she offered gently. "I think this could be the kind of experience that could put a man off of women forever..."

"I won't be so easily swayed," he answered, shaking his head. "Unless this changes something for you, I see no reason to change our existing arrangements."

She studied his face and found conviction there. Anxiety, of course, but purposeful strength as well. Lying back, she nodded once, closing her eyes. It seemed wrong that his first glimpse of a female's intimate parts should be while they were so horribly distorted and strained but, if he saw no reason to make an issue of that, she supposed she shouldn't, either.

"It's only a medical examination," he repeated her words, patting her knee. "One of a dear friend, no less. Of course I'll take no advantage. You needn't concern yourself."

"James!" she chided gently, opening her eyes. "That's not my concern at all. I simply would have wished for your first experience of a woman's body to be more enjoyable for you."

"I'd rather help a dear friend like you than take a quick tumble with some senseless twit, any day," he answered with a shrug. "Perhaps, with time, I'll find a female lover I can really care for. Perhaps not. But none of that will change the fact that I'll always be happy to give you what aid and support I can. I want to do this for you, Helen, and you mustn't worry that it will be somehow troubling for me. It will be my honour."

"Thank you, James," she sighed, taking his hand. "I don't know what I did to deserve a friend like you."

"I don't know what I did to deserve one like you," he answered with a shrug and a faint smile. "We're well-matched in that regard. We're well-matched in many regards."


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

Her next contraction was a bit stronger than the previous ones, but somehow not so painful. Or maybe just not so shocking now that she was more accustomed to such an unusual variety of pain. Some parts of the body, after all, were naturally more sensitive than others. It was only natural that unaccustomed pain to them should seem more intense and unbearable than other sorts of pain.

James examined her shortly after the contraction passed, quickly and with all the professionalism of a real, licensed physician. Despite his admission, he made her feel like he had seen a thousand naked females before her, making the whole thing considerably less awkward than it might otherwise have been.

"You're coming along, but I suspect we still have some time to wait before things really start to progress."

She sighed, but nodded. From everything she'd read, it was not unusual for a woman's first labour to last more than twelve hours. In a fair number of cases, it would last _days_. She prayed it wouldn't stretch out so long, but felt that it would be very much her luck if it did.

"You don't have to stay, James. This is going to be long and boring."

"Nonsense. You shouldn't be alone."

"James, nothing is going to happen for a long time. I'm not in any danger."

"I know you're not. You still shouldn't be alone. This is an important time. You should have someone with you."

"Thank you, James," she whispered, taking his hand again. "You're a good friend."

"Shh," he urged quietly, squeezing her hand. "Do you need anything. Are you hungry or thirsty?"

"A bit thirsty. And I wouldn't say no to a little chocolate if there's any in the house."

He chuckled at that, giving her hand another squeeze and climbing to his feet. "Yet you accuse _me_ of having a sweet-tooth. I'll see what I can do. You get some rest."

"All right. Thank you."

Smiling and resting her hand on her stomach, she watched him go, reaching for one of the books they'd brought up from the library earlier. She was on the second page when the next contraction hit. Gasping and dropping the book, she clutched her stomach, squeezing her eyes shut and telling herself firmly that the discomfort really wasn't all that bad. And, really, it was no worse than taking the Source had been. It was just much more focused, and on a much more delicate area of her anatomy this time. The last time she'd really felt noticeable sensation down there, John had been doing something quite pleasant to her. Now, to feel such powerful sensation there, after so long with none at all, was almost overwhelming.

As the contraction passed, it occurred to her that she might never again experience the kind of lovely sensations associated with lovemaking. John was gone, and she could hardly sleep with anyone else while she was married to a man as kind and loving as James. And, of course, he was unlikely to ever lay a hand on her in passion. The past several months had made it painfully clear that he was perfectly content with a sexless marriage. He _did_ love her, had said so himself repeatedly in unguarded moments, but didn't seem to want more from their relationship.

Tears came unbidden to her eyes at the idea of a celibate, lonely life, and she wiped them away defiantly. It wasn't that she needed sex to be happy, after all, but it would have been nice to have someone to love her properly. She sniffed hard, shaking her head and wiping her eyes again.

It was terrible, or perhaps ideal, timing. James chose that moment to enter the room, wheeling a cart of refreshments. Quickly pushing it to one side, he hurried over to the bed, sitting and wrapping his arms around her. Gathering her close, he urged her head down against his strong chest and made soothing noises, petting her hair as she quietly wept, working the fear and loneliness out of her system.

"Are you in that much pain?" he asked gently, pressing his face to the top of her head and just continuing to hold her. "I can give you something."

"No." She shook her head. "I'm sorry, it's not that. I'm just... I don't know. I feel so emotional."

"The baby blues, come early?" he ventured, dropping his head further and nuzzling her cheek.

"Must be," she agreed weakly. "I'm sorry. I don't know what's wrong with me."

"You're under a lot of stress. Nothing about the last forty weeks has been easy for you. I sometimes forget that marriage didn't solve everything for you. It helped, I'm sure, but that doesn't take away the pain and anger, or the guilt. How could it? So much went wrong for us all, so quickly. It's been a nightmare," he noted, tightening his gentle hold on her. "Of course you're emotional at a time as important as this. Everything is about to change, and it's hard to know whether those changes will be for better or for worse."

She sniffled again at that, at words no doubt unintentionally reminiscent of their wedding vows. Wrapping her arms around him, she nestled as close as her massive belly allowed. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

"I believe we've had this conversation before," he murmured, petting her hair. "The truth is, while I may make this easier for you, you _would_ still manage on your own. You're stronger and braver than I think you've ever realized. I saw that about you the first day we met. I admired it in you so much."

"There's nothing admirable about me, James," she sighed into his chest, shaking her head. "I'm not the strong woman you think I am."

"Stronger than you know," he murmured, rubbing her back. "You'll see when this is all over. And, for now, I just need you to trust me. I'm right here and I'm going to help you through this."

"Thank you," she whispered, smiling weakly up at him.

"Try to get some rest," he directed, smiling warmly and urging her onto her back against the pillows. "We have a long day ahead. Quite probably a long night, too."

She sighed at that assessment, shifting around to try to find a comfortable position. "How far along am I?"

"Three or four centimetres. I'll check again after you've had a few more contractions."

"All right," she agreed, closing her eyes and resting her hands on her stomach.

"How are you holding up?" he asked gently after a few moments of silence.

"The contractions are more painful than I thought they'd be this early on but, so far, it's still not as bad as I was afraid it might be. You hear such horrible stories of labour and childbirth. I was half-expecting not to be coherent by this stage."

"As you yourself pointed out, women have been doing this for hundreds of thousands of years," he answered, a smile in his voice. One of his hands coming to rest on her stomach, he added, "I think women have a hard time precisely because they're so terrified. But you understand what's happening to your body and, unlike many, you've experienced considerable pain in the past, so it's easier for you."

"You're probably right," she agreed, opening her eyes and covering his hand with one of her own. "It's quite unpleasant, but it's not _so_ very unbearable."

"I'm sure it will get much worse," he warned, biting his lip, "but I'm equally sure you can handle the worst that labour has to throw at you."

"The pain will be terrible, I know. But knowing why it's happening and what it's for..."

He nodded in agreement, giving a little gasp as the baby targeted a hard kick at his palm. "You're eager to get out, aren't you?" he chuckled. "It won't be much longer, little Miss."

"Why are you so sure it's a girl?" she asked, smiling curiously at him.

"Why shouldn't I be? Besides, it's mostly wistful thinking on my part. I just think the world could use another woman like Helen Magnus, so of course I hope you'll grace us with a girl."

She bit her lip at that, blushing a little. "Thank you, James."

"Mmm," he agreed, smiling and nodding. "Have you decided on a name yet?"

"Gregory if it's a boy, of course," she told him.

"Of course." He nodded. "And, if it's not?"

"I'm partial to Ashley for a girl. Ashley Watson has a good sound to it."

"Ashley Watson?" he repeated, expression musing. After a moment, he smiled. "Yes, it sounds... kind and even-tempered."

"And Gregory Watson?"

"Ah, now that's a strong name. With a name like that, your son is bound to be both a scholar and a leader."

"And you don't think an Ashley could be those things?" she asked, frowning a little.

"Of course she will be," he answered easily, patting her stomach. "Any child of yours will be naturally powerful and brilliant and, together, we'll teach her to love learning as much as we always have. She'll have it in her blood _and_ in her upbringing, which is more than can be said for most. Of course she'll be as much of a scholar as either of us."

"Do you think she'll be athletic, too, like... like her father?" she asked, faltering a bit near the end of the query. After all, if the child inherited one trait from John...

"Well," he answered slowly, "that will be in her blood, too. But you know what a debate there is on how much a child inherits in its blood and how much from its environment. She will probably be athletic if we encourage her to, but not otherwise."

"You fall on the nurture side of the debate, then?"

"To a strong extent, yes. If nothing else, there's almost no proof that children inherit more than superficial physical traits from their parents and, even so, Lamarckism has been quite thoroughly discredited, so there's no need to worry about her picking up any traits her parents weren't born with. Do you understand?"

She nodded slowly, swallowing hard. "It will still be best to keep a close eye on her."

"Of course. But we will love her, support her, nurture her, and treat her like a normal child rather than like a ticking bomb. That alone will help insure that she grows up happy and stable."

"You really will love her like your own, won't you?"

"Oh, I'll love her better than any man ever loved his own offspring," James promised, smiling and gently caressing her swollen belly. "She's to be the centre of my world."

"You'll be an amazing father, won't you?" she murmured, heart-warming as she considered the amount of affection he'd likely lavish on her poor child.

"I'll do my best to be a good one. I keep telling you that," he chuckled, smiling warmly down at her. "Now get some rest, if you can. I brought hot cocoa for you, and a plate of chocolate pastries," he told her, climbing to his feet. "If a child really _could_ inherit traits acquired during the lifetime of its parents, yours would be sure to be quite addicted to chocolate..."


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

The contractions came with increasing frequency over the next few hours and, gradually, with increasing force as well. James read and talked to her between contractions, keeping her mind occupied and off the pain, and of the anticipation of the worse pain to come. From time to time, he examined her, and reported on her progress. To her, it seemed to drag on interminably. But, listening to his progress reports, she knew that everything was going quite well, especially for a first labour. Of course, she could not be entirely comfortable until it was all over but, so far, she had every reason to be cautiously optimistic that none of the horror-stories she'd heard in the past would apply to this delivery.

"Were you an easy delivery, James?" she asked as he finished up yet another exam.

"Oh, no. By all accounts I took three days to present myself to the world, and my mother screaming the whole time," he answered, smiling wryly. "I was trouble to them even then. But this one will be no trouble at all. It won't be much longer now. Would you like to try to walk a bit more?"

"I'd rather never get up again," she answered, but clumsily started hauling herself out of bed anyway. "My back aches so badly, James."

"I can't imagine," he answered, moving to her side and helping her to her feet. "Here, lean on me. You'll be weak, I'm sure."

"Very," she agreed with a sigh, gratefully accepting his offered support.

"Were you a difficult delivery?" he asked, wrapping his arms around her and supporting her as they slowly moved towards the window.

"No. Father told me once that my mother wasn't even aware that she was in active labour until she was fully dilated. But I was her second pregnancy, so her body must have been more ready."

"The first child died?" he asked, frowning sympathetically.

"He did, a few days after he was born," she answered, biting her lip. "Father seldom mentioned it. I don't think about it very often."

"And there's no need to think about it now," he assured her quickly. "Infection was rampant before doctors knew to wash their hands. It's different now. This child will be fine."

"I believe you," she assured him, smiling since he really did have a point. The child in her womb was healthy and active, and James was taking every precaution against contamination. There was no reason to anticipate trouble. "Did you want a large family?"

He hesitated, then shrugged, helping her to sit on the window-seat. "Oh, at times I thought it might be nice. At others, I thought perhaps not. I know most people think they want a large family, but I'm inclined now to think it's better to give just one or two children your undivided attention, rather than trying to keep track of half a dozen all at once."

"Do you think she'll be lonely?" she asked, drawing back the curtain to see how the snowfall was progressing. It was beautiful out, but there would be no sending for the midwife now even if something _did_ go wrong. The road looked simply impassable. "Without playmates, I mean?"

"Even if she doesn't have siblings, that doesn't automatically mean she'll have a solitary existence. There will be the children of servants to play with, and the town's children. She won't want for friends, Helen, I promise you. If I have to adopt a half-score of orphans to keep her company, I won't allow her to grow lonesome."

She smiled at that, leaning her cheek against the cold glass of the window with a soft sigh. "James?" she asked quietly, not looking up at him. "Speaking of adoption..."

His expression grew serious, and he sat down next to her, taking her hand lightly in both of his. "What is it, Helen, darling?"

"Whose name do you want me to put on the birth certificate?" she whispered.

"Mine, of course!" he answered, looking a little shocked. "I am to be this child's father, and not merely by adoption!" Checking himself, he frowned and shook his head, adding, "If you insist on claiming her as John's, I'd still like the right to adopt her, but it would be easier for all parties if we simply claim me as father outright. I know the choice is yours and yours alone, but I also know what I would like to see you do."

She felt tears spring to her eyes at his emphatic intention to truly claim the child for his own, not just in the eyes of polite society, but in those of the Crown, and she leaned forward, wrapping her arms around his waist and resting her chin against his shoulder.

"I know I should have known," she sniffled, "but _James_..."

"I know, darling, I know," he soothed, resting one hand against her back and bringing the other to lightly stroke her hair. "We should have discussed all this ages ago. I'm sorry I didn't think to bring it up."

She opened her mouth to answer, but just gasped instead as another contraction hit. Clinging to his shirt and panting, she closed her eyes and firmly told herself that the pain just wasn't that bad. It was a lie, but a comforting one. James held her through the contraction, then helped her back into bed and went to wash his hands again.

"I'm going to have another look at you."

She nodded weakly, arranging herself as close to comfortably as she could manage and closing her eyes as he moved to kneel between her legs. His hands were gentle, and he was quick, but he didn't draw back this time as he had after every other examination.

"I'd say you're fully dilated," he informed her gently. "We need to discuss how you want to proceed before the next contraction."

"Well, it's a little late to change my mind!" she laughed, shaking her head and staring at him.

"No, Helen, I know that," he answered, looking bemused. "What I mean, is that I have both ether and laudanum in my supplies. If you'd like either-"

"No!" She shook her head hard, cutting him off mid-sentence. "Both leave a baby sluggish and sometimes even unable to feed, and who knows what long-term damage they might cause? Besides, I wish to be in control for this, James. I can't abide being weak or helpless. I want to do this for myself. I _need_ to."

"All right," he agreed, nodding. "Then this will be very unpleasant for you, but I'm going to be here the whole time. We'll get you both through this together."

"Thank you, James," she answered smiling nervously and giving a faint nod. "Just tell me when it's time to push."

"The baby's not quite crowned yet, but I doubt it will take many more contractions before she is. Then it will be time."

She nodded again, swallowing hard as pressure started to build. "Here comes another one."

"All right. Just remain calm," he directed, nodding encouragingly. "You've made it this far and the end is almost in sight."

She mumbled in agreement, gritting her teeth as the pressure just kept building and building until the pain of it brought tears to her eyes. It lasted longer this time, and left a stronger ache than usual as it passed. Exhaling deeply, she collapsed back against the pillows, closing her eyes.

"Once the actual delivery gets underway, it should only take a few contractions for you to deliver the baby itself," James told her gently. "It will be painful, but quick compared to everything so far."

She knew all of this, but she nodded anyway, letting him recite what he'd learned.

"Once you deliver the child, you'll still need to expel the afterbirth, but that should feel like nothing in comparison to what you'll already have been through."

She nodded again, hands clenching into fists as she recognized another contraction coming on. This time, she couldn't quite contain a quiet cry at the unexpected intensity of it. This was labour in earnest; everything before this had just been a warm-up. The pain built and built, and suddenly James was urging her to push, his hands on her legs and his eyes darting between her face and... elsewhere.

He hadn't been lying about things moving more quickly. Instead of long waits between them, the contractions came so closely on the heels of each other that they almost seemed to blur together. She was noisier than she had intended to be, shouting almost out of instinct as she pushed hard for what felt like ages, then was told to do it all over again.

" _God in heaven, it_ _ **hurts**_ _!_ " she protested with a sob as the pain became intense enough to make her vision swim and her ears ring.

"That's the head, Helen! That's the head!" he told her with a breathless smile, nodding encouragingly. "Rest for a second. That's the hard part over."

"Why isn't it crying?" she demanding, trying to sit up, but falling back as another contraction took her.

"Push for me, Helen. Just one or two more good pushes, darling," he urged. "You're strong. You can do this."

She pushed as hard as she could, crying out with the agonizing, exhausting effort, but wanting the whole bloody experience to be over as quickly as possible. When her voice died, the room was too quiet, and she opened her mouth to demand, again, to know why the baby wasn't making a sound. Before she could voice her concern, though, a thin wail filled the room, followed by a laugh from James.

"You have a daughter, Helen!" he crowed, beaming at her. "A beautiful, healthy daughter!"

She let out a laugh of her own, one that dissolved into a sob as exhaustion and emotion caught up with her. "Let me see?"

"Just a moment," he directed, hands moving quickly, but outside of her line of sight.

The baby kept squalling, and James kept laughing. She wasn't sure if seconds or hours had passed, but suddenly James was laying a clean, cloth-wrapped bundle on her chest, and untying the laces of her nightgown as the crying baby moved fitfully about.

"Her lungs are healthy," James laughed, exposing one of her breasts without a blush and helping her move the infant into position. "Ashley?"

"Ashley," she confirmed, nodding weakly and smiling tremulously up at him as the baby caught hold of her nipple and sucked hard. "Oh, James, we did it!"

" _You_ did it," he corrected her, pulling a blanket over her and the baby and moving between her legs again. "But it's not quite over."

"I know, but it can't be as bad as what I just went through," she answered quietly, closing her eyes.

She thought she might have fallen asleep, because the next contraction was totally unexpected, seeming to come out of nowhere. Jerking in surprise, she barely remembered to heed James's instructions to push. She felt the placenta being passed, but it barely registered next to the sensation of the baby suckling greedily at her breast.

Things were a bit of a blur after that, and she wasn't sure when she was awake and when she was asleep for most of it. It seemed like a waking dream at times, and like a regular dream at others. James cleaned her up, then carried her over to the window-seat with the baby, wrapping them both up in warm blankets and calling to Mrs. Baines. Between the two of them, they changed the bedding while she dozed with her baby. When she came around again, she was back in a freshly-made bed, bundled up with the baby asleep against her chest and James sitting in a chair next to the bed with a rapt, if slightly dazed, expression.

Sighing happily, she smiled weakly at him, whispering, "Thank you..."

"Oh, Helen, I knew you could do it," he answered quietly, biting his lip. "But you need to rest now. We can talk when you wake up. I'll be here."

"You can't sleep in that chair. Come to bed, James. There's room enough for three."

He hesitated, but only for a moment before he climbed wearily to his feet and circled the bed, sliding in next to her and resting a hand on the baby's back as he cuddled close to the two of them and closed his eyes to rest with her.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

The baby was not born beautiful; honestly, no child ever was. But she became beautiful quickly. And, as weeks turned into months, she developed into a little blonde cherub with bright, curious eyes and a smile that could have been designed to melt hearts. Helen often found herself standing by the crib, just watching the little one at repose. Often, James would join her, staring at the baby with a look of wonder that she doubted had been seen on the face of many men beholding their own natural-born child.

"She's charming," James observed one afternoon. "And flexible," he added with a chuckle, as Ashley tried to chew on her own foot. "Perhaps we were wrong. She'll not be a scholar but a circus contortionist."

Snorting softly, she nudged him in the ribs with her elbow, shaking her head. "Look at her eyes, James. She's going to be a genius."

"I never doubted that she would be," he answered, bending and feathering that perfect little face with tender kisses.

Ashley cooed, as she always did when her mama or papa gave her attention, and promptly passed out from the excitement. Chuckling, James gently covered her over and tucked her in.

"Well, that gives you a few hours to rest," he noted to Helen, smiling warmly. "It's best to enjoy your sleep while you can. Before we know it, she'll be keeping us up all night, every night."

"I'm honestly not tired for once," she told him, biting her lip. "My body seems to be recovering. I'm nowhere near where I was before the pregnancy, but I'm definitely in better shape than I've been for months now."

"That's wonderful!" he answered, beaming and resting a gentle hand on her shoulder. "How's the, ah... discharge?" he asked, turning a bit pink.

She felt herself blush in answer, but couldn't bring herself to be annoyed by yet another very personal question from him. He'd spent most of the pregnancy worried about her bowels or her urinary habits, after all. From anyone else, it might have felt invasive. From James, it just felt like unofficious, solicitous concern for her well-being.

"Almost gone. A little behind schedule, but not alarmingly so. I'll see a midwife if it doesn't clear up by the end of the month," she assured him. "Spring will be here before we know it," she added by way of changing the subject. "We should take Ashley for her first walk on the grounds as soon as the warm weather arrives."

"Oh, now that's a lovely idea!" he answered, smiling and nodding eagerly. "We'll go on the first nice day. She'll love the fresh air."

"And, next year, when winter comes again, I'm sure she'll love the snow."

"So she will," he agreed, chuckling and wrapping an arm around her waist as he smiled down at the sleeping baby. "Look what you made, Helen…"

"I didn't know it was possible to love someone so much," she admitted, leaning into him and staring down at the perfect little creature asleep in the crib. "I feel like my whole life is different now. All my dreams and plans... they just don't seem as important as they once did."

"They're still important," he assured her. "They may just end up being put on hold for a little while. But, before you know it, she'll be self-sufficient enough to allow you to go back to your studies and help your father in his work again."

"Some day, she'll help, too."

"Of that, I've no doubt," he agreed, giving her waist a little squeeze. "We'll raise her to have all your passion and dedication."

"And your insight and commitment," she added, smiling up at him.

For just a moment, it was easy to forget that this amazing, peaceful little creature was not actually his. She felt a pang as reality reasserted itself, but only a slight one. With James as doting father, Ashley would still have many of his more desirable traits. Sighing softly, she rested her head against his shoulder.

"Penny for you thoughts, darling?" he murmured.

"Just wondering what the future holds."

"Good things. Amazing things," he answered with quiet assurance, leaning his cheek against the top of her head. "Now, let's let her rest?"

"I suppose we'll have to hire a governess soon?" she sighed as they left the nursery.

"It can wait as long as you like. There's no rule that says that a child _must_ be raised by the help, after all. If you don't mind sacrificing the time, why shouldn't we take an active role in her upbringing? It worked for your father and you."

"Right up until the illegitimate pregnancy..."

"Helen," he chided, shaking his head. "Whatever else is or is not true, Ashley is a blessing. We're lucky to have her."

"I know. I know we are. I just..." She bit her lip, chuckling weakly. "I sometimes wonder what it would have been like if it had been you, not John."

"An understandable line of thought," he answered, steering her into the sitting room. "Shall I send for tea?"

"Please." Nodding, she sat down, smoothing her skirts. "Do you ever wonder? About what it would have been like if things were different?"

"Sometimes," he admitted, ringing the bell and then moving to sit beside her. "But you never quite saw me in that way. I've always been content with your friendship. It's more than most men could ever hope for from a woman like you."

She bit her lip at that, reaching for his hand. "Then you don't want more? You never have?"

"Don't, Helen," he whispered, shaking his head and giving her hand a squeeze. "I was always in a difficult position with regards to you, and John. The two people I loved most in the world, engaged to be married... It wasn't easy. It hurt, sometimes more than there are words to describe."

She bit her lip hard at that frank admission, clearing her throat. "You never said."

"How could I? You two were happy together. Why would I even think to try to get in the way of that?"

"So you _did_ want more?" she asked quietly, heart fluttering a bit. Could she really have mistaken desire for indifference for so long?

"I wanted your happiness. The specifics never much mattered." He shrugged. "If I'd known then what I do now, I'd have done everything in my power to wrest you away from John. I would have fought to keep you apart."

"Part of me wishes you had."

"But then we wouldn't have Ashley. I shudder at the thought of him putting his hands on you after the Source, but I'm grateful for the result."

"Me, too," she answered, smiling at him and looking up as a maid entered. "James and I will take our afternoon tea in here, thank you," she told the girl.

"Yes, Mrs. Watson," she answered, curtsying before ducking out of the room again.

"I may never get used to being called that," she chuckled, shaking her head.

"Would you like me to have Mrs. Baines direct them to call you something else? Mistress Helen, perhaps? Or Madame?"

"That makes me sound so old," she protested, laughing and swatting him.

"Dame Helen?" he offered, smirking a bit. "We aren't technically due the family titles while my father is alive, but..."

"Stop it, James," she giggled, poking him in the ribs. "You're incorrigible. I don't want a title. You know that."

"Miss Helen, then? As if you were unmarried?" he asked, looking dubious.

"Would you mind terribly?" she asked, biting her lip.

"No. No, not if it makes you more comfortable. I just wish you'd said something months ago."

She shrugged. "I had so many other things on my mind."

"I suppose you do have less to worry about now. Your baby is healthy, and strong, and she'll be happy. When you're a parent, little else matters."

"Yet you're already planning for her future. Father told me what you said in your last letter about her working with us eventually."

"It was just a passing comment. And you didn't seem to mind the idea much yourself, during the pregnancy. Have you changed your mind since?"

"No, I just suppose I didn't expect you to bring it up to father so early. I wanted time to prepare him for the idea."

"Well, I'm sorry if I overstepped. But he's a forward-thinking man. Even if he has some initial resistance to the idea, it won't last, not any more than it did when he had to decide whether to share his world with you. He sees that the value a woman can have to his work is no less than that a man can have."

"You're right, of course," she answered, smiling and reaching for his hands. "You're like him that way. You never make me feel... lesser for being a woman. Neither of you ever have. It's good to know that my daughter will grow up with a father and a grandfather who feel that way about her, like she's an equal."

"No, not an equal." He shook his head. "She's always be that baby in her cradle to me, even when she's a grown woman. But it will never be her gender that sets her apart in my eyes. That you may rely on."

She smiled warmly at that, kissing his cheek. "You're a good man, James Watson."

"I certainly do my best to be," he answered, wearing that shy smile he sometimes donned when she praised him.

It was endearing. She could have gotten used to seeing it more often. She could have gotten used to a lot of things, she realized. Sighing happily, she leaned back and waited for the tea to arrive.


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

The following days saw her with a lot to think about. Her feelings were confused on the heels of James's quiet confession that he'd loved her all along, romantically rather than just as a friend. Fortunately, he seemed intent on giving her the time she needed. He acted as if nothing had changed, didn't say a word or even seem to expect any actual decision or change from her, just went on treating her with his usual, friendly affection.

But, for her, everything had changed. She'd had so much to think about and, now that she had thought about it, so much to talk about. She just had to get James alone and...

She laughed at that reflection, since he hadn't exactly been the one doing the avoiding lately. Rather, she'd been constantly finding excuses to be in places she knew he wouldn't be. He was taking it with good grace, though. When they did accidentally run into each other, he'd make a friendly greeting, ask if she needed anything, and then quickly take his leave again, as if casually. He was giving her space. If he felt shy or embarrassed, or anything like it, he didn't let it show.

She was spending a lot of time in the nursery these past few days, even more than she had been before. The baby's presence soothed her and, of course, the baby adored her company, too. Which might have more to do with the fact that Ashley was constantly hungry and always glad for a chance at her mother's breast.

She was there now. The baby had already eaten her fill, obviously, since she barely bothered to suckle properly. But she fussed every time Helen tried to draw her away from her breast, so she just held her close, rubbing her little back and waiting for her to fall asleep. It was so soothing, feeding her little one, felt like the only time she was truly at peace. Not that she was particularly upset when they were apart; it was just better to be close.

"Oh, sorry. I assumed you two must have been done ages ago," James's voice intruded on her reverie.

She looked up, saw him hovering in the doorway, and smiled warmly. She always felt so much fonder of everyone when she was feeding Ashley. "She didn't want to be done. I saw no reason to make her stop."

"You spoil her," he answered with a smile, moving to her side. "May I?" he asked, gesturing to the empty seat beside her.

She nodded, despite having one breast bared, and despite having done her best to avoid him for days now. With Ashley in her arms, it was simply impossible to be worried or anxious. Moving over to make room, she asked quietly, "How have you been?"

"Oh, finding ways to keep busy. I don't know how this estate runs itself in the absence of a master, the number of questions and tasks everyone always has for me when I'm here." He smiled and shrugged, smiling fondly down at Ashley. "And how are the two of you?"

"She's gluttonous."

"She's growing fast," he chuckled, shaking his head and turning his gaze up to her face. "What about you? You've seemed troubled these past days. I apologize if that's my fault."

"I'm not troubled," she sighed, biting her lip. "I've just had a lot to think about."

"But it _is_ my fault?"

"I'm not sure it's fair to assign blame. I was the one who asked about your feelings. You didn't force them on me."

"But I clearly said more than you were ready to hear. It wasn't my intent."

"Do you _always_ think about my feelings to the exclusion of your own?" she sighed, shaking her head. "Oh, James, would you please stop it?"

"You're in a very difficult position. I've never been insensible to the fact. I don't want you feeling pressured to return feelings you don't share."

"I don't feel pressured," she assured him, repositioning Ashley so she could support her with one hand, then bringing the other to rest on his wrist. "You've done the opposite of pressuring or coercing me. You've done such a thorough job of it that I wasn't even sure of your feelings until the other day, you impossible man."

"Now I'm impossible?" he scoffed, shaking his head hard. "I was trying to do the right thing by you, Helen Magnus!"

She winced a little at his vehemence, but could hardly blame him for it. "How have you not been frustrated to death by all this?" she demanded, quietly since Ashley finally seemed to be dozing.

"You're a dear friend. I hardly had the right to expect more. You've always made your thoughts and desires on the subject clear."

"I said that this would be a loveless marriage. I said that we'd make each other miserable," she recalled, biting her lip.

"It was a difficult time for you. You were understandably upset. You had no right to expect a particularly happy marriage, under the circumstances," he noted. "As I said at the time, I'd have been furious in your shoes, not just fearful for the future. If I were you-"

"James, let me talk," she injected gently. "I've been thinking a lot these last few days. There's a lot I need to get off my chest."

"You should put the baby to bed," he suggested slowly. "I know she can't understand, but I'm still not sure that she should be present for this conversation..."

She nodded slowly, settling Ashley in her lap and covering her exposed breast with a soft sigh. "There's no feeling in the world like that one."

"Nourishing life out of your own body? I should think not. I quite envy you the ability."

She bit her lip at that, climbing to her feet and tucking Ashley into bed. "I don't think I want a governess for her, not at all."

"Of course. We'd hardly be the first parents to abstain from hiring someone else to raise our child. We might even enjoy it," he observed with a smile, bending and kissing that beautiful little face. "Mightn't we, little one?"

Ashley cooed softly in answer, eyes not opening.

Chuckling, James drew back, turning to face Helen. "Your study, or mine?"

"Mine, if you don't mind. In case she starts to cry, I want to be able to hear her."

"Of course," he agreed, offering his arm.

Taking it, even though she was well past needing his actual support, she leaned on him just slightly and headed into the adjoining room. He stayed close, silent and wearing a grave expression that made her wonder what he thought she was going to say to him. Which was fair, when she hardly knew herself. Sighing softly, she settled down on her sofa, staring at the fire and considering what her next words should be.

"Helen?" he prompted gently when she didn't say anything for a time.

"Sorry. I just..." She trailed off, clearing her throat. "I've had a lot to think about, James, as you can well imagine."

"I can, of course. But you must know that I don't expect anything from you. I didn't tell you about my feelings in expectation of any change in yours."

"James, I think... my feelings have been changing slowly for some time now. I...see you differently."

He bit his lip at that, expression hesitant. "I do hope you like what you see?"

"You're a good man, James. I'm not sure I ever realized before how kind and loving you are. I'm glad I've been given a chance to find out."

"So am I, Helen," he murmured, looking down. "And I... I want you to understand that I will content myself with your friendship if that's all that's to be on offer."

"I'm not sure it is any more, James. I... this past year has changed a lot of things. You've been so marvellous, and never expected a thing in return."

"One shouldn't do kind things because they want a reward. They should do them to be a good person."

"You've gone well beyond just being a good person in all of this, James. No one would have done what you did, for the reasons you did it. Just because we're friends. It's... you've been so good, so kind. James..."

Not sure what else to say, she leaned over and pressed her lips lightly to his cheek. He made a soft, startled noise in answer, drawing back and staring at her with wide eyes. Swallowing hard, he lifted a hand to her face, tenderly cupping her cheek.

"Darling..."

"James," she answered, smiling and leaning a little shyly into his warm, gentle touch.

"It's a hard thing, I know, to change from not loving a person to coming to care for one. I'm not asking-"

"Hush," she interrupted, pressing a fingertip to his lips. He looked endearingly shocked, but he didn't protest or try to keep talking. "This change has been coming over me gradually. I may need more time," she confessed, clearing her throat, "but probably not so much as you think. I feel like, with time, I could be a real wife to you."

"You're already my wife in all important respects, Helen. You are my friend and my advisor, my confidant and my comfort."

She shook her head faintly at that, not quite making eye-contact. "I'm not naïve, James. I know that there's more any healthy man might like from a marriage."

"I'll never pressure you for that," he answered quickly.

"I know. And that's why, when the time comes, I'll be ready to give it to you freely," she assured him, pressing a chaste kiss to her lips and smiling when she felt him smile in answer.

He looked a bit shy in answer to that, clearing his throat. "I'd like that. I'll never press you but, now that you've said it, I find myself looking forward to the day."

She was looking forward to it herself, truth to be told. She'd spent so much time dreading the prospect of spending the rest of her life in a loveless, asexual marriage. Now she found herself caring for James in a way she wouldn't have considered possible a year ago. There was no reason to suppose her marriage couldn't be everything that a proper marriage _should_ be. She really could have all the things she'd always wanted in a marriage. Maybe the raw, burning passion of her early days with John would be missing, but she was starting to think that those things weren't really necessary to actual love after all. Surely her feelings for James, while more staid, were no less real or meaningful despite the lack of fire.

Perhaps it was as James himself had said. Sexual desire and passion faded with time. Deeper forms of affection endured. And she'd never cared for James on purely physical grounds. It was true that he was a fine-looking man, but she'd always been too busy viewing him as her best friend to really see him in a romantic sense before.

It seemed that theirs would be a backwards-running relationship, one where friendship came first and romance eventually followed. She couldn't help but smile over the idea after all those months of worrying about never having love again. After all, it was James. Of course they would love each other. It would just be, like everything else they did together, a bit non-traditional.


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

He was out playing with Ashley, holding her hands as she staggered across the lawn, almost-but-not-quite walking on her own. She was developing quickly, not growing with unusual speed, but experiencing rapid maturation all the same. It wasn't parental pride prompting that assessment, either. Exposure to whatever there was of the Source in Helen's bloodstream had done something to Ashley in utero. She was smarter and stronger than a girl her age had any right to be. Her progress was not precisely unbelievable, but it certainly wasn't normal, either. At six months, she'd taken her first wobbly steps. Now, just a few short months later, she could walk many metres with her or James providing their hands for balance. She didn't even need support any more, but her balance was still a bit lacking at times. Clearly she was a normal baby in most respects, if a bit accelerated in others.

It was a relief in many ways, seeing how normal she was. She was a happy, even-tempered child, no doubt more so because her father seemed intent on anticipating her every need and filling it before she knew she had it. It was no wonder, then, that she was sweet and cheerful. She never even fussed over being put to bed. Then again, her days were so filled with play and exploring that it was no wonder that she willingly went to sleep at the end of it all. And, although she usually took her afternoon naps in the lap of either Helen or James, at night she preferred sleeping on her own. It really was the best of all worlds, even if Helen sometimes felt lonely sleeping by herself at night again.

She laughed as Ashley's legs finally gave out and she slumped a little, only not landing on her little bum because James was there supporting her. The baby giggled, throwing her legs in the air so James was holding her by the arms alone. Chuckling at that bit of playfulness, he straightened and swung her around in circles, earning even more laughter from Ashley. He swung her about a few more times, stopping and cuddling her against his chest when he saw that they had an audience.

"Helen!" he greeted her, carrying Ashley over. "Come and see mama, love," he told Ashley. "I'm sure she's had a busy morning studying those new papers grandpapa sent for us."

"Very busy," she agreed, smiling and bending to give Ashley a kiss and a nuzzle. Leaning up, she kissed James on the cheek, too, smiling against his bristles for a moment before drawing back. "You really do need to find the time to read what father has sent. He's found several whole new species in India..."

"And on to Africa next, I understand? We may never see him again at this rate," he chuckled. "But I'm glad he's having fun, and learning a great deal. Especially since he's sharing his knowledge with us. I still fully intend to see us both all as active participants in his work one day."

"It would certainly be more rewarding than a simple country medical practice."

"You're growing sick of the country, aren't you?" he asked gently. "Longing to return to London where nothing's ever boring?"

"A bit," she admitted, biting her lip. "But the London air wouldn't be good for Ashley. We should stay here for at least a few more years."

"You won't hear me object," he assured her, setting the baby down as she started to struggle in his arms.

Predictably, she started crawling straight for the neatly-manicured flower beds. Laughing at that, James scooped her up and turned her around so she was facing the grassy lawn. Undeterred, she crawled around in a half-circle, hauled herself to her feet and started toddling towards the flowers again.

"Troublemaker," he laughed, shaking his head and not trying to stop the little one.

"James!" Helen protested, grabbing his arm.

"Oh, there's nothing the least bit toxic there. Those German Chamomile might even calm her down if she tries to eat them."

She found herself sputtering a bit in answer to that, shaking her head and just giving him a Look. "You're as bad as she is. The gardener will be furious."

"The gardener is well-paid to keep the beds in order. He'll get over it," James assured her, chuckling as Ashley started tearing up a patch of flowering clover. "The honeybees may be less resigned..."

"You shouldn't let her be so destructive, James."

"It's not wanton destructiveness, Helen. She's just too young to understand that the flowers won't be back tomorrow. Give her a few years before you start expecting her to grasp causality. If she ever starts doing real harm, I'll be quick enough to correct her. In the meantime... May I borrow this?" he asked, bending and retrieving a flower from Ashley's pudgy fist. Ashley tilted her head, watching curiously as he plucked a spike from the flower head and brought it to her little rosebud lips. "No, don't chew, suck," he directed gently, smiling as she complied. "Sweet, isn't it?"

Ashley giggled in agreement and proceeded to try to pull apart another of the flowers.

"I didn't know clover was sweet," Helen commented, biting her lip.

"You grew up in the city. Flowers were too rare a commodity to be ripping apart for a drop of nectar. But the same nectar that attracts bees can be enjoyed by humans, too. Care to try?" he offered, bringing a tiny flower spike to her lips.

"This is silly," she protested with a smile, but obediently sucked. She made a surprised noise as just the faintest trace of sweetness hit her tongue, eyes widening.

"See? I used to do that all the time as a boy. And I suspect Ashley will do it a good deal herself, once she has the coordination," he added, chuckling as the young lady in question grew frustrated with trying to pull apart the flower head and just shoved the entire thing in her mouth instead.

"Oh, she's going to choke, James!" she protested, shaking her head.

"This is why parents keep a close watch on their little ones," he added as she spat out the flower with a confused look. "They'll put anything in their mouth, although they tend to be more selective about what stays there. But as long as we keep a careful watch, she won't have time to choke. And, if she should choke a little, well, that's not a difficult condition to remedy. We are both doctors, after all."

She bit her lip at that, since he did have a point, but had to argue, "I still would rather we not need to test those particular skills on our own daughter."

"And, God willing, we never will," he answered, scooping her up and tossing her in the air.

Ashley squealed happily at that treat, arms and legs flailing as he caught her and tossed her in the air again. A few tosses and some being swung in circles later, and she was starting to settle down, her shrieks of laughter replaced by contented cooing.

"Inside with you, then, little love," he declared, kissing her hair. "You've had a long morning, and it's time to rest so you'll be ready for round two."

Ashley cooed again, snuggling into his chest and closing her eyes.

Helen smiled and shook her head at that. "You do have a way with her."

"She's a little darling, and she's not hard to manage. Let's go put her to bed?" he suggested, wrapping an arm around Helen's waist and steering her inside.

"She _is_ past due for her nap," she conceded, leaning against him as they walked.

"I suppose she is. We were having so much fun I lost track of the time. I'm surprised she didn't let me know she was hungry."

"Trying to eat your flowerbeds should have been a clue," she mock-chided, smiling warmly up at him.

He laughed softly at that, holding the door to the nursery for her. "Would you like me to wait outside while you feed her?"

"James, when in the past months have I ever made you wait outside?" Shaking her head, she sat down and reached for a blanket. "You've seen me naked, at my worst. There's hardly any reason why you shouldn't be present when I'm feeding Ashley. I'm not even that exposed."

"As long as you don't mind," he answered, carefully passing her the baby and then turning his back.

Smiling up at him, she exposed her breast and shifted Ashley into position, covering her with a blanket. "All right, James."

Turning, he sat down next to her, smiling warmly. "I'm glad you decided not to get her a governess. I feel like we're so much closer to her than we might otherwise be."

She made a soft noise of agreement, smiling and sighing happily. "I can't imagine paying someone to feed and change her, let alone play with her and tell her stories and all the rest."

"I even love it when she cries and fusses," he agreed, biting his lip. "Unless I was being disciplined, or it was a special occasion, my parents only saw me for half an hour every night before bedtime, and I'd be removed immediately if I misbehaved. I can't imagine only seeing her that often..."

"No, it wouldn't be right. I was raised by my father. I'll admit that there were times when it was awkward, but not many, and she won't have to deal with that. She'll have a mother's advice when she needs it."

"And what a role-model you'll be for her: strong and intelligent and not brooking disrespect from anyone..."

"And a father who is wise and compassionate, but who still knows how to fight and what to fight for," she answered quietly, biting her lip. "What more could a girl ask for in a father?"

"Or in a mother?" he countered gently, smiling warmly at her. "She won't want what we wanted for. A loving father like you had, a strong mother like we both wish we had... She'll be so loved, Helen. Her future will be a good one."

"Yes," she agreed with a wide smile of her own. "We'll make it a good one. She'll be normal, but not too normal."

"And smart; frequently too smart. We'll probably have trouble keeping up with her intellectually by the time she's twenty."

"Maybe that's how it should be. We spend the first two decades teaching her and the next two learning from her. We always did say that the world would be a better place if our parents' generation could only learn from ours."

"And now we're the parents," he agreed, gently stroking the back of Ashley's head. "What will we learn from you, little one? What truths do you have to teach us? Ones we can't yet begin to grasp, hmm?"

"No pressure, Ashley. Your father doesn't want much of you, only the wisdom of ages."

James gave an unrepentant smile at that, shrugging. "Give her time. She'll amaze us both. Children always do, I suspect, when their parents have the good sense not to be appalled by them instead."

"Do you think she'll appal us, then?"

"She's have ways we consider wild and friends we consider unworthy, just like every child ever." He chuckled and shrugged. "She's ours. Of course she'll do what she likes instead of what she's expected to do."

Her heart fluttered pleasantly, as it did every time James referred to Ashley as being _theirs_. Because he believed it in a way she'd never expected him to, in a way that didn't require him to convince himself. She was his child, not by a trick of biology, but by the law of love. She was his daughter simply because he recognized her as such. It was such an all-encompassing degree of loving acceptance that it made it impossible for her to fear for their future together, the three of them.

As good as his word, he hadn't exerted one bit of pressure on Helen to love him as more than a friend. He was open to her affection when she was able to bestow it and never asked for or seemed to expect more. But her affection for him _was_ growing, slowly but surely. Two years ago, she wouldn't have recognized these feelings as hers for him. Now, though, as they raised a child together in such complete amity, it was hard to remember a time when she'd felt such strong affection for another. Not that she would ever stop loving the man John Druitt had been before the Source, but that didn't preclude a real, strong love for James Watson, either. John was no longer the love of her life, but instead simply her _first_ love, a fond memory to be cherished without being allowed to eclipse or diminish what had come after.

"Oh no," James whispered. "You're wearing that expression."

She frowned in bemusement at the mock-gravity in his face. "What expression is that?"

"The one that tells me that you're thinking deep and important thoughts."

"Oh, that one," she murmured, biting her lip. "I... was thinking about you."

"Me?" he asked, looking a bit unsure. "Good things, I hope?"

"I loved seeing you with Ashley today," she told him, climbing to her feet and moving to lay the baby in her crib before tucking her breast away and turning to face James again. "Every time I see the two of you together, I feel like I love you a little more."

He actually blushed at that, bless him, and chuckled softly, shaking his head. "I'm not how I am with her because I'm trying to win your love, Helen. You know that," he told her gently.

"If you _were_ trying to win me that way, it wouldn't work. But your unaffected love for her is beautiful to see, James. It's not a side of you I'm used to. But it is a side of you I'd like to see more of..."

He looked down, clearing his throat. "Well, then, it's lucky that we have many long years ahead of us."

"Many, many years," she agreed. "Now come kiss Ashley, and then we'll leave her to sleep for a few hours."

"Some nights, when I can't sleep, I sneak in here and watch her sleep instead."

"Really? I'm surprised we've never run into each other," she admitted.

"I, uh... sneak out when I hear you approaching," he answered, gesturing towards the far door. "Being with her, when you need to think..."

"It helps," she agreed, nodding. "Next time you hear me coming, don't sneak off, James. We can stand and watch our baby sleep together."

"I'd like that," he told her, biting his lip. "You're sure you wouldn't mind?"

"No. Of course I wouldn't mind. You can be sure, if I ever need time alone with her, I'll let you know. But I don't see that happening any time soon."

"No? Well, that's good to know." He smiled, bending and kissing the dozing baby. "Oh, you perfect creature," he whispered, shaking his head. "How are we so blessed?"

"James," she whispered, reaching for his hand, "it's time to stop asking why. We have this life now. It's ours to live. Let's just make the most of it?"

"Oh, Helen, I don't think anything could make me happier," he answered, sliding his fingers through hers and squeezing her hand as he smiled down at their sleeping baby.

 **The End**


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